


Paradise

by KatieNuss



Series: Paradise [1]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, gratuitous fluff, traught - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieNuss/pseuds/KatieNuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she met Dick, Artemis had never really had a GOOD friend before.</p>
<p>An AU in which Dick was not taken in by Bruce Wayne, Artemis was not raised to be an assassin, and Jason Todd comes along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Me

_***_

_“We have to leave tonight, Alice. I can’t stand it anymore.” Cheshire’s eyes were hard; she was near her breaking point. She was rifling through the drawers of our shared dresser, grabbing a few of my things along with her own. “Tonight we jump down the rabbit hole. He’s never going to touch us like that again.”_

_I hugged my stuffed rabbit. “He’ll come after us, Cheshire. Dad will come after us.”_

_She looked up at me, her eyes appraising my appearance. “It’s cold, you’ll need a sweater.” She jogged to the closet, shoving things aside before pulling out her favorite sweatshirt, and walking over to me. “Arms up, Alice,” I lifted my arms, she took my rabbit and pulled the too-big hoodie over my head._

_“We’ll never make it,” I took the rabbit back from her, putting it in the suitcase, and she ran to the bathroom quickly to grab our tooth-brushes._

_“We will! We’re gonna make it and everything is going to be perfect. We’ll find a whole new world, just like Alice, except we’ll stay in ours.” She gave me a shaky smile, and pulled her ponytail through the back of her old blue baseball cap._

_“You’ll be cold, if I have your sweatshirt,” I glanced down at her bare torso and arms._

_She considered this, and quickly grabbed another hoodie; this one was small, and blue. It was mine, and the sleeves were too short for her. “I’ll use yours then.”_

_We both turned quickly to our bedroom door; there was something loud on the other side._

_“Dad!” I whispered frantically, wide eyes turning on my sister. Panic flashed through her eyes, but she quickly schooled her expression and rushed over to lock the door._

_Cheshire slammed our suitcase shut and grabbed my hand, pulling me over to the window, it was still closed. “Girls!” Dad’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, and it started to rattle as he tried the door. “Open this door!”_

_I could just pick up the faint smell of whisky wafting under the paint chipped door. “Cheshire!” I whispered again, she unlatched the window and clawed at the bottom of it. It had been painted shut long before we ever moved into that disgusting apartment._

_“Shit!” She cursed silently, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a switchblade._

_“Where’d you get that?” My eyes flickered back and forth between her fearful, determined eyes and the blade in her hand as she cut through the paint seal._

_“It doesn’t matter,” she gritted her teeth, the rattling on the door stopped, she looked up quickly. “Where’d he—”_

_“Open this door!” Dust and paint chips rained down from the ceiling as he started to slam his body into the door._

_Cheshire finished cutting the seal, and shoved the closed knife into my grasp, pushing up on the window with the heels of her hands. There was a cracking, scraping sound as the window finally was forced open. “Quick, get out!” She helped me up onto the window sill. I landed on the rusted fire escape hands first, and then pulled my legs out with me, getting to my feet. I put the knife into the pocket of my jeans and waited for Cheshire._

_She turned to go for the suitcase, and the door burst open, our father falling to the floor along with a piece of the door frame. She looked from him, to the suitcase, and made a dive for it, catching it by the handle and turning on her heel for the window._

_“Where do you think you’re going!”_

_“Cheshire!” I screamed when he grabbed her ankle, and she fell to the floor._

_She shrieked and kicked back with the foot he held, catching him on the nose. He released her and she scrambled for the window, shoving the suitcase out first, before climbing after it “Go, Alice go!”_

_At her say so I moved for the stairs that would take us down to the next level of the fire escape, never taking my eyes off of her as I descended to the second highest floor in the 13 story building. The case fell open when she dropped it and she hurriedly tried to force everything back in. As she grabbed my rabbit, dad came out the window after her._

_“Cheshire!” I called to her in warning. She looked down at me, then to the window behind her, and she swung her arm back, and her fist caught dad in the nose again. The blood flow seemed to double and she slammed the case shut a second, getting to her feet only just faster then he got to his. “Cheshire, hurry!”_

_“Alice, go!”_

_“You’re not going anywhere, little girl!” he towered over my sister, and she glared at him with all the anger that she and I ever felt._

_“I’m leaving. I’m taking Artemis and we’re going!” she backed up a step, getting closer to the low, rusted railing of the escape. She used my real name, which always meant trouble._

_“Cheshire!” her name came out as more of a sob._

_“You’re never leaving.” He stepped towards her, lifting his hand and she stumbled back, knocking into the railing. The back of his fist came down hard, and she hit the railing again._

_It didn’t hold her._

_“CHESHIRE!” I watched helplessly as she and the metal that she had knocked into spun in the air. She twisted her body, and I saw the fear, guilt, and anger in her eyes before the hard, wet smack that was her skull hitting the trash covered pavement of the alley below. Cheshire’s eyes were blank. “CHESHIRE!” Her still form was suddenly blurry, the tears distorting my moonlit view of my sister’s corpse._

_“JADE!”_

_***_

Dick had been sitting alone when I met him. He was obviously new to Gotham North. No one sat with the new kids when they first started school, me included. It was a cruel initiation, one that reminded the new kid that no one was going to hold their hand and make it all better. That was something everyone from Gotham needed to learn.

What made this time different is that this kid, this striking kid, was so _small_. His face was still a little round. He didn’t have the corners that a teenager would. His shoulders were still small, not broad as they should have been. The tight jeans he had on showed off his skinny, though not un-toned legs.  Even though he had been sitting and hunched over his lunch tray, I could tell that he was several inches shorter than I was.

He was so _tiny_.

I set my tray next to his without saying a word, and slid into the chair beside him. He jumped and stared at me with wide, blue eyes.

“What, were you saving this seat?” I tucked my shoulder length blonde hair behind my ears and looked at him. He was even more attractive up close.

“N-…no,” he replied, timidly. His voice was a little high. Had this kid even hit puberty yet?

“How old are you?”

“I…I-I’m…eleven…” he mumbled, looking down at his tray, then back to my face. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Oh…I-I like your earrings.”

I reached up and touched the jade green cat eye that hung from my ear. “Thanks.”

We ate together every day after that. We didn’t exchange names until the next week. It hadn’t come up, until he called me Cheshire.

“What’d you just call me?” I narrowed my eyes and he shrunk.

“Cheshire, cause you always wear that hoodie, and it has ‘Cheshire’ on the back and a picture of the Cheshire cat, so, I…” his eyes flickered back and forth between me and the spork in his little hand.

I smiled a little. “Relax, kid. I’m not gonna bite you. This hoodie was my sister’s, she was Cheshire. I was Alice.”

“Is that your name then? Alice?” he fixed his gaze on me.

“No, it’s Artemis, Artemis Crock.”

“Oh…I’m Richard Grayson, I go by Dick, though.” He looked at me warily, definitely expecting a perverted joke.

“That what your parents call you?”

“They called me Robin.”

“ _Called_?” I raised my eyes at his use of tense.

“They…they’re dead.” He looked pained all of a sudden and wary again. “I’m in foster care…”

I nodded. “My sister is dead, too.”

There was a long silence as we ate our lunches. “Artemis?”

“Yeah, Dick?”

“Are we friends?”                                                                   

“…Yeah. We’re friends.”


	2. Pasts

Our encounters were a lot more cheerful after that. The next day I told him to meet me in the main hall, outside the library after class. I found him shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying very hard to blend into the peach colored wall behind him.

“Dick!” I called to him, and his eyes found mine immediately, and he watched as I shoved my way through the crowd to get to his side. “You waited,”

“You told me to, so…” he looked as though he had done something wrong.

“I’m just glad you listened. Now,” I pulled the hood of my black Cheshire sweatshirt over my head, and pulled Dick’s red hood over his raven hair—he jumped a little when I touched him. “I know it’s a monsoon out there, but you and me are going to get some ice cream.”

“What?” his sapphire eyes widened. “But I don’t have any money!”

“Don’t need it,” I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front door, and pulled out my umbrella. It was old and cheap, so the metal was bent and the cover sagged on one side. “Stick close or you’ll get soaked.”

“We’re not gonna steal it are we?”

“No! Absolutely not, I’m not some kind of thief.” I gave him a mock glare and he looked terrified. Suddenly I felt a little guilty. “Relax, Dick, we’re not stealing anything.” He was so jumpy.

“Okay,” he clung to my side and we walked down the sidewalk, which at that point was more of a river. ”How far is it? There’s a rule I have to be home by five every day,”

I looked at the watch on my wrist—it was a child’s watch, Alice in Wonderland themed. “Well, we have an hour and a half.”

“Just as long as we make it on time.”

“You got it, Dickie.” I got the slightest pout for the nickname, and I laughed.

It took us another ten minutes of walking through busy streets, and past gothic architecture and  people who had more important places to be before we arrived at Pop’s Ice Cream Shop. It was a brick building, color darkened by the rain, with a pink and manila awning (it used to be red and white, or so I’m told) covering the not-so-clean windows and glass front door. The name of the shop was painted on the windows, though a lot of the gold embellishment had cracked and chipped away with time.

“…Is this place safe?” I snorted and gave Dick a shove.

“Don’t be a brat. This place is the best kept secret in Gotham. My sister used to bring me here when we were little. The owner liked Alice in Wonderland like we did, so we got free cones once a week. It was our secret place.”

“Then…why bring me here?” he sounded skeptical. I rolled my eyes and pulled him inside, collapsing my umbrella and pulling off both our hoods.

“Because I like you, kid,” I ruffled his hair and he pouted at me again. “Now come on.”

“Artemis!” the old man behind the counter smiled at me, his wrinkled face crinkling with the motion. “I almost thought I wouldn’t see you again,”

“It’s only been a week, I had a school project to work on.” I sighed with exasperation, and watched as he scooped me a cone of my favorite ice cream. I thanked him and smiled when he handed it to me. “This is my friend, Dick. He’s new to school.”

“Well hi there, Dick,” he waved, hunching his shoulders timidly. “What kind of ice cream do you want?”

Those eyes widened again. “Huh?”

“Tell him what you want,” I nudged his shoulder, licking my cone.

“But, I-I don’t have any money!”

“If Artemis brought you here then you don’t need any.” Dick gasped a little, and looked back and forth between us. “You seem like a mint chocolate chip kind of guy.”

Dick nodded ever so slightly, eyes still big. Pop scooped him a cone, and he took it carefully, like it was a precious thing he didn’t deserve to hold. “Th-…thank you,”

“Thanks Pop,” I smiled at him and led Dick over to the wide window sill, sitting on the edge. There were empty tables, but I’d always preferred the view of the street.

He shuffled his feet, and looked completely unsure of what to do with himself. “Dick, sit down,” he did. “And eat your ice cream.” He did that too.

His pretty face lit right up “It’s so good!” and he took a big bite.

I smirked at the kid, a little proud to have made him light up like that. “Pop makes the best ice cream.” I licked my cone again. “I always get trail mix.”

“Trail mix…? That sounds gross.”

“Hey! It’s not, it’s got pretzels and M&M’s and chocolate chips, aaand coffee beans.” He wrinkled his nose. “Try it,” I held out my cone and he blinked.

“But that’s yours,” he lowered his own cone a little.

“Take a bite, it’s delicious and I demand you try it.” After a full minute of contemplation he leaned forward and took a bite, then sat back, letting the vanilla melt in his mouth before chewing on all the good stuff and swallowing.

“That’s weird,” he wrinkled his nose again and I laughed.

We went to Pop’s every day after school. I managed to scrounge up enough cash to buy him a cone on the days when Pop couldn’t spare a free one, and he reluctantly accepted, trying every single flavor at least once. Twenty flavors later, Dick was a cheerful, talkative, sarcastic little brat, and the best real friend I’d ever had.

He told me he was in eighth grade with me instead of seventh because he was, as his foster brother had termed it ‘freakishly smart’.  Dick was a genius, and explained basic trigonometry better than any math teacher ever could.  He helped me with my homework—which he timidly insisted I do all of—and my grades actually started to improve, though only marginally.

I’d known since our first week together that he was an orphan, but it wasn’t until later that he told me exactly _how_ he was orphaned, that he watched his parents plummet to their deaths from the trapeze he used to fly on. “We were ‘The Flying Graysons’.” He looked up at the ceiling through his thick lashes, giving a fond smile. “We were the _best_.”

“What made you the best?”

“We could do moves that no other act could, and when my parents did routines without me—I was too young for some of them—they didn’t even need a net,” his smile turned bitter. “I wish they’d used one the last time, though.”

“Well did you do anything by yourself?” I tried to shift his focus from the image of their broken bodies on the ground below him.

“Yeah, and I had my own title, too,” he lit up again and I felt the clouds disappear from over his head. “I was ‘The Boy Wonder’!” there was pride in his voice, in the name used by his parents and by the crowds that paid to see him perform. I was taken by his memories, the way he described them—bright lights and high wires beneath the warm safety and raw excitement of the circus tent he’d grown up in. I could almost see it, almost taste the hot air and smell the sweat of the performers mixing with the salty smells of popcorn.

“Sounds badass,” I grinned and he hunched his shoulders shyly.

“Some of the other cirkys thought so to.”

“What’s a cirky?” I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a circus person, like me.”

“Well what does that make me, a muggle?”

“A what?” He gave me a strange look, obviously not getting the pop-culture reference. “No, you’re a gilly, an outsider.”

“Yeah but you can get me backstage, right?” I teased.

“I could, at Haly’s, but it’s not as exciting as seeing the show.”

“It’d still be so cool to see what things are like in the background,” Like most kids, I’d always wanted to run away to someplace better when I was young. I never thought that place would be a circus, but seeing Dick’s Wonderland would have been amazing, even early on in our relationship.

It occurred to me one day that it didn’t make sense for Dick to be in foster care. Surely there would’ve been someone in Haly’s to take him in. When I asked him about it, I learned that he wanted to live with Haly’s Circus, to be with the people he’d grown up with, but that it was determined an ‘unfit’ home for a child. So instead he was thrown into the system, where he moved from ‘fit’ home to ‘fit’ home, picking up an array of tiny scars from his ‘fit’ foster parents and siblings before he landed in my part of Gotham.

“I’ve been in four other homes besides this one, the last one was the worst.” He crossed his arms and looked up at me, silently requesting I not ask about it.

“Well how about now, are these people good to you?”

“They’re alright, they’re older, and they’re strict but they don’t hit me or lock me in the trunk of the car for extended periods of time, so I’m okay.” That tore at my heart a little. Although his tone was passive, he wasn’t the type to exaggerate the severity of his situation; if anything he probably downplayed the bad parts. I tried my best not to visualize someone shoving this tiny, seemingly fragile kid into the trunk of an old car and locking him in. Unfortunately I failed, and that image stuck with me, surfacing in my mind from time to time. “They’re good people,” He reassured quickly.

“I’m glad,” I gave him a smile full of poorly masked relief.

“My foster brothers aren’t as nice though. Seth and Sam are blood, fourteen and fifteen, and they stick together to gang up on the rest of us, they’re always in trouble. Michael is the oldest, seventeen and he’s a smoker, it’s gross.” He wrinkled his nose. “He always smells like smoke.”

“Half my building smells like that,” I sighed in annoyance. It wasn’t that I took major issue with smoking, if they wanted tar up their lungs they could go right ahead. I just hated that the acrid smell never seemed to go away. There was always the faintest whiff of it in my own apartment, even though neither me or my father had ever liked cigarettes.

 “Jason is younger than me, he’s nine and has a whole bunch of anger issues, and he’s a little thief,” Dick huffed, there was definitely a story there. “But he’s nice enough, he sticks up for me a lot, and he’s not afraid to get into it with Seth, Sam and Michael if they come after us.”

I discovered I loved listening to him talk. He was so animated, especially when he was excited about something—like when he started going to public schools and was first put into a computer class, or when he saw his first black and white film. The only problem was when he really got into a conversation, I often had to stop him in the middle of his sentences because I had no idea what he’d said.

Dick had a thing about words; he liked breaking them apart, analyzing prefixes and original meanings and how one letter could make all the difference, just another quirk that came with being a boy genius. It took time, but he explained his hang-ups with the English language, specifically prefixes, and had me saying made up words like ‘whelmed’ and ‘asterous’ in no time. It actually took effort to avoid writing his words in essays.

However, there was more to this boy than his intelligence, because he was still a natural athlete. It turned out that despite the couple of years he’d spent outside of the circus, he was still an amazing gymnast and acrobat, always walking on his hands and doing cartwheels, back and front handsprings, and even random midair flips. He was a little show-off, and I was awed by his flexibility, grace and utter rejection of gravity every time.

During gym class one day he took it upon himself to make a gymnast out of me. “I can’t do a cartwheel and no amount of badgering is gonna make me embarrass myself trying.” I crossed my arms, giving my best glare. The little devil smiled a toothy grin. “No.”

“Please? It’s easy I swear!”

“Yeah for you you little circus whelp!”

“Artemiiiis!” he gave me his best kicked-puppy look and shattered my resolve. Brat.

I then proceeded to embarrass myself for the rest of the forty minute period, until finally, at the very end, I did a near acceptable—though extremely mediocre—cartwheel. “I did it!” I threw my hands up in triumph and he threw his strong, skinny little arms around me and held on tight.

“Told you I could teach you,” his voice was low, and a little watery, so I did something completely out of character and hugged him back.

It was the first time we hugged. However it was not the last time Dick would force gymnastics down my throat, and in time I’d even be able to do a hand stand and a walkover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the chapters have awkward beginnings or ends, I wrote this entire story in one shot, so it really doesn't have stopping or starting points. However, if I hadn't written it all before posting it, It would never have gotten finished. So it's sort of a trade off.
> 
> Hope you like it so far :)


	3. Family Dinner

“Hey, Artemis?”

“Yeah, Dickie-bird?”

“What was Cheshire’s real name?”

I stopped walking a moment, and rubbed the end of Cheshire’s sleeve between my thumb and forefinger. I had made a point of remembering to keep my sleeves down that day, just in case someone noticed the bruising on my forearm. "Jade Nguyen.”

“Why is her name different than yours?”

“She hated dad, worse than me, even, and she didn’t want his name, so she signed everything with mom’s maiden name.”

“Why did she hate your dad?” I started walking again and he followed.

“He’s not a nice guy. They didn’t get along.”

Though he didn’t really ask very many, I avoided any more questions about my father. However, that didn’t stop him from asking all about Jade.

“What was she like?” there was a skip in his step; we were skipping Pop’s today in favor of me showing him the small playground in the vacant lot on 31st. I mentioned it had an old metal jungle-gym and he wouldn’t let it go until I showed him. He was ecstatic when I finally said yes, which made me extremely curious as to what he planned to _do_ with the rusty old thing. I’d never really seen the point in jungle-gyms, it seemed like their only purpose was to be fallen off of.

“She was the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“Strong?” he lifted his arms and flexed his surprisingly defined biceps, giving me a questioning look.

“No, I mean the other kind of strong. She always stood up for herself, and for me. She protected me. I mean yeah she had more muscles then I did too—she worked out a lot—but that’s not the point.” Everyone had more muscles then I did. I never tried to get in or stay in shape, and I never had much of an appetite. Even if I did I usually only ate Pop’s ice cream once a week or whatever Jade would bring home from the restaurant where she worked. Dad hardly cooked, not that his food was edible most times anyway, and my fridge wasn’t exactly overflowing with food. Now it was just Pop’s, and a lot of cheap, instant food. Most of dad’s money went to paying mom’s medical and care center bills. We didn’t have insurance.

“When did she die?” his tone was much quieter now, and I glanced at him, he looked like he felt guilty for asking.

“I was twelve; it was a year and a half ago now.”

“That’s the same time my parents died, but I was eight, almost nine, not twelve.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked entirely too thoughtful for an eleven year old. “How did she die?”

“She fell. Kinda like your mom and dad.” I looked at him and we made eye contact. “Not off a trapeze obviously.”

“Off of what then?”

“It’s a long story,” he frowned slightly, looking guilty again. “We’re here, look, there’s the jungle-gym,” I pointed to the ten foot structure, a jumble of welded metal poles that arched and dipped in interesting ways. Dick’s eyes sparkled and he started running towards it, before stopping halfway and running back to my side, holding his backpack out to me along with his jacket.

“Hold this please?” I took them and he spun around and rocketed back to the structure, jumping impressively high to latch onto a bar, before swinging a few times to pick up speed and ending up in a hand stand on the bar, feet sticking straight up in the air. He laughed and swung back down and then back up to catch another bar behind his knees.

Again, I found myself completely dumbfounded by Dick’s skill. I moved over to sit on the old marry-go-round leaning against one of the bars one leg outstretched in front of me. I pushed off the ground with the other so the carousel spun slowly, squeaking with every quarter turn.

We only barely got him home in time to make his curfew that night. We’d had to run, the little bird had insisted he get to stay as long as possible, and I couldn’t really say no to him when he looked so completely happy.

When we finally arrived at the front door after what felt like a marathon to me and apparently a light jog to Dick, his foster parents invited me to stay for dinner.

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Dick was right, the parents were nice, but strict. His foster mother, Maggie, almost had a heart attack when I didn’t put my napkin in my lap, and her husband, John, was always the one to snap at the boys when Maggie made a displeased face.

His older foster brothers on the other hand, were just annoying. Seth and Sam, the ones closest to my age kept looking at me in extremely obvious and suggestive ways, Michael kept asking if we were dating and doing an array of other things that Dick, or Jason for that matter, shouldn’t even know exist.

Jason was protective of Dick, spitting back snarky comments to every insult directed at the acrobat. I decided I liked him.

“Shut up you little ginger.” Though his anger issues, as well as his colorful vocabulary, shone even more clearly when _he_ was the target of insults.

“Go fuck yourself, you pansy ass!”

“JASON TODD!”

Dick and I barely contained our snickering, but managed to control ourselves until he walked me to the door at the end of the meal, and we stood on the front stoop together.

“That was…entertaining to say the least,” I grinned and he mirrored my expression, before hugging me tightly.

“Thanks for staying, and for showing me the playground.” I hugged him back—he was turning me into a hugger.

“Of course, Dickie-bird,” I ruffled his hair.

“Thank you so much,” he pulled away, having finished his daily speech of gratitude, and looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “You’re…you’re my best friend.” And he quickly went back inside, running away like he’d just confessed his undying love to the unattainable girl of his dreams.

I smiled and shook my head. The affection that kid gave me was a serious guilty pleasure. He was the only friend other than Jade I’d ever had. And he was an excellent one, even if he was a tiny little circus brat. I was honored to be his best friend.


	4. Winter Break

The rest of the semester was actually fun, thanks to Dick. His sense of humor was lame but his laugh was extremely contagious—even if it was a little gremlin cackle. To say we became fast friends would have been an incredible understatement. It was so easy with him, and our sense of familiarity was almost unreal.

The muscles in my cheeks were becoming exceptionally strong because of all the smiling I was doing. That kind of happiness was a rush I’d never experienced.

I didn’t see or talk to him at all over winter break, and I was genuinely surprised by how much that tore at me. I would think of something that I thought might make him laugh and I’d have to remind myself I wasn’t going to be seeing him in school the next day.

I spent most of my time hidden away in my room, writing wild and detailed fantasies about the life I wished I had. Writing was a hobby, nothing I was any good at. It was freeing, despite the fact that I was writing about the same old thing over and over again. On paper, being stuck at home seemed so much less like a trap. Instead I wrote it as a jumping off point, a place where I learned harsh life lessons that prepared me for the incredible things I’d do when I finally broke away. Of course, it was all a bunch of garbage, so no one was allowed to read it or even know it existed.

When I did leave the apartment, it was to visit my mom at the care center where she was being looked after by an array of nurses and doctors that really weren’t doing anything but making her comfortable.

I knocked gently on the door of her room and peaked through the door, making eye contact. “Merry Christmas mom,” I pushed the door open just enough to slip through, and then closed it behind me.

“Artemis,” she breathed, her tired face lighting up with a smile. I smiled back, and jogged over to where she sat in a wheel chair by the window. “I am so glad to see you,” there was the slightest Vietnamese accent when she spoke.

“I’m glad to see you too,” I bent over at the waist to hug her gently, and she wrapped her arms around me. I could feel the slight tremor in her hands.

“Where’s your father?” she pulled away from me and I sat in a nearby chair.

“I reminded him you were expecting us,” my smile dropped, dad never kept promises that weren’t of a questionable nature, and my stomach twisted, because that fact was pushing her even closer to her inevitable end.

Her face fell into a tired, familiar expression. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“Sorry, mom,” I pulled on the ends of Cheshire’s sleeves and curled my legs up to my chest.

“It’s okay, Artemis, it’s not your fault.” She smiled half-heartedly, and I reflected it.

I stayed with her for a few hours and we watched cable television together in near constant silence. I moved my chair beside her wheelchair, and leaned my shoulder against hers while we sat, though the occasional involuntary twitch of her muscles made it less comfortable than it could have been.

She shut the television off after a few sickly sweet Christmas specials that all shared the same basic plot. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you any gifts, Artemis,” she didn’t look at me. Whether it was out of shame or guilt I never knew. But I always felt like she was ashamed of the things she couldn’t give me, or Jade, when she was alive. I didn’t blame her though, how could I? What could she possibly do except miraculously get better?

“It’s fine, I mean it’s not like I have anything for you, either.”

She turned to me and with an upturned look, wished me a merry Christmas. Taking the hint that she needed rest, I hugged her goodbye and left in silence.

Visits with my mother were never especially cheerful or especially sad; they were all kind of monotonous, since Cheshire. She was never the same after we lost my sister. Part of her died the day she found out about her oldest daughter’s death. She was nothing like the confident, beautiful person she once was. She was empty, and I knew that I’d never be enough to make her feel whole again. I wasn’t good enough, because I wasn’t my sister and I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t her pride and joy or the love of her life. I was just the occasional visitor, the daughter who didn’t know how to deal with what was happening to her once breath-taking mother.

I spent the rest of my break alone or avoiding my father. When he was home, it was hard. He spent a lot of his time in the living room or the kitchen, drinking away his negative feelings and looking at old photographs in an attempt to relive the life he used to have. Interrupting his mental reruns of his glory days was a stupid, stupid mistake and one that I tried very hard to avoid making.

The more time that passed, the more I found myself eager, and terrified to go back to school and see Dick. Being at home was like drowning in bad memories, suffocating in mine and my father’s desperation to escape into the past, where we’d been the happiest. Dick was the first thing in a long time that made me look forward to the future, and being without him so long was almost frightening, because the past was creeping back into my mind, trying to get it’s hooks in and drag me back into the all-consuming depression that had taken over what was left of my shattered family.

When I finally did see him again, I was half worried he wasn’t going to know who I was, that somehow the friendship we’d spent the last few months building would have magically vanished from his memory. My heart sank when it took him a half-second too long to respond to my call in the lobby of the school our first day back, but my paranoia was cured when his eyes found mine and a grin spread across his face.

“Artemis!” he rushed to my side and I didn’t hesitate to return his hug. Warmth flooded my body, and I’d be lying if I said wasn’t elated to see him. “How was your break?” he pulled out of the hug a moment too soon.

“It was alright, I stayed in most days,” I didn’t lose the smile plastered to my face. “How about yours, any presents for Christmas?”

“It was great! And yeah, I only got one,” he pulled his bag around to his front, while keeping one of the straps on his shoulder, and started digging through the biggest pocket. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and swung his bag back behind him. “But I think we can use it a lot,”

He displayed the camera in his hands, it was digital, though it didn’t look terribly expensive. “Wow,” I looked to him for permission, and when he nodded I took it from him, looking it over. “It looks nice,” I turned the red camera over in my hands.

“So…do you know how to use it…?” he looked to me hopefully, biting his lip.

I opened my mouth to respond and then closed it to think. “No, I don’t think so.” We exchanged confused glances. “I guess we’ll have to read the directions.”

He blew out a sigh as the warning bell rang. I took his shoulder and spun him around to shove the camera back in his bag, and then spun him again. “Stop that you’re gonna make me dizzy!”

“Meet me at lunch, okay? I have to run.”

“Yeah, okay,” he frowned slightly, realizing we had to part ways for a few hours. I was relieved I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “See you then.”

It took us a few days of experimenting, but we did eventually get a handle on the camera—the basics, anyway. We couldn’t figure out any of the extra features, not that there were many, but we could take pictures. We even found the flash, and that was really all that mattered.

Dick didn’t really have an eye for photography, and neither did I for that matter, but even so he decided we needed to document everything. “I wanna have something to look at when I’m old and grey and I’ve outlived you,”

I shoved him and laughed. “What makes you think you will?”

“I’m younger then you, that’s what. And healthier, probably.” That was definitely true.

“You know, statistically, women live three years longer than men.”

He paused, and gave me a disbelieving look. I snapped a picture of it and he grinned. “You definitely made that up,”

“I did not! Look it up.”

“Whatever, gimme the camera,” he reached for it and I held it over my head.

“No way brat!” I snapped a few pictures of him grabbing for the camera and I could see him fighting the laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Artemis come on it’s miiine!” I laughed and he pouted.

“Here.” He took it back from me quickly and took a picture of my face.

That camera got more use than any I’d end up having in the future. We took dozens of pictures of each other and of the places we liked and all the things we thought were significant. We even had photos of the ice cream cones we liked the best.


	5. Swimming

When summer vacation rolled around, our pictures took on a bit more variety. Jason even started to filter in after a while, when he could stand to spend his time with us anyway—it definitely wasn’t something that happened a lot.

According to Dick, he and Jason got along extremely well—despite Jason’s surly demeanor. It was just the combination of the two of us that bothered the red head, as we were apparently ‘super annoying’.

However, there was more to our summer than photography.

In July, I declared we were going to go swimming. There was a pool at Gotham North’s high school, the place we’d be attending the next year. It was open to the public during the summer as long as you signed in.

“Um…” he fidgeted, playing with the hem of his faded blue t-shirt.

“’Um’ what? It’s hotter than hell. We’re going.”

“Well…I don’t…I don’t actually know how to swim…”

“You what? But you’re a circus kid! You should know how to do everything! I mean you can do all those flippy things and you have awesome aim and…how come you can’t swim?”

“It was never really a priority; my parents were a little more concerned with making sure I could function on the high wire and the trapeze then in a pool.” He looked up at me, squinting a little from the blinding sun. We were having lemonade—courtesy of Maggie—on his front stoop.

“Well, Dickie-bird, we’re gonna make you into a duck.” He raised an eyebrow at the statement. “Cause as far as I know robins don’t swim, but ducks do, and they fly, so if I teach you to swim then you’ll be a duck.”

“I don’t want to be a duck!” he sounded a little more offended then was necessary and I snickered into my glass. “Robins are way cooler!”

“They eat worms, you know.”

“Th-That’s not the point!”

“Besides, I let you teach me some gymnastics, so I’m gonna teach you to swim. It’s only fair.” At that he gave up, gulping down the rest of his drink.

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You can use one of mine.”

“NO!” I laughed again and he flushed, pouting.

“I’m just kidding, I already asked Maggie she said she had a hand-me-down you could use. And it’s a _boy’s_ suit so chill out Dickie.” I held up my tattered green knapsack. “I’ve already got it. So bring these inside,” I handed him my empty glass. “And then we’re going. No excuses.”

The entire walk there Dick kept trying to murder my conviction, and kept failing. “You know little kids probably pee in that pool, it’s probably _mostly_ pee.”

“They have showers in the locker room, I brought soap.”

“Plus it’s in a high school, and you know what high school kids do in that pool? _Sex_. Michael said they have lots of sex in that pool. Said he did it too.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“It’s true! He told me before he moved out.” Michael had turned eighteen just before he graduated, and when he had finished high school, the system dropped him and he was on his own. Maggie and John couldn’t afford to keep him without the money from the state, so he had gotten a full time job to foot the bills for a studio apartment somewhere. He still came back to his foster home every Friday for dinner, though.

“I’m sure he did.”

“And dirty people swim in that pool, like people who haven’t showered in _days_ and then they just wash off all their gross into the pool water! Think of the germs!”

“The chlorine kills the germs and like I said,” I smirked and he pouted. “I brought soap.”

“For you! It’s not like I can shower in the girl’s locker room with you.”

“Yes you can, it’s okay to bring kids into the girl’s locker room. No one’ll care if I bring you in. Besides you’re so small no one’s gonna think you have hormones or something.”

“You’re making me shower in the girl’s locker room!” his voice went up an octave. “But-! I-!”

“The showers have curtains and I brought you a towel. No one’s gonna see your skinny butt.” I laughed again when he whined.

“Artemiiis!”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He didn’t look convinced. “It wiiill!” I ruffled his hair, mimicking his whine.

When we finally got there, and entered the locker room, he shut his eyes and took my hand, terrified of seeing anyone in the buff.

“Are you afraid of boobs or something?”

“No!” he didn’t open his eyes and instead had me guide him through the locker room. I took him to a bathroom stall, since he outright refused to change where someone could see, and gave him his bathing suit. He nearly had a heart attack when I said I was going to change by the lockers and leave him alone. So I changed in the stall next to his.

“This suit is too big…” he muttered.

“Well hold on.” I pulled on my modest one piece and knee length board shorts before I shoved my clothes into my knapsack and stepped out of the stall to knock on his door. “Open up, Dick.”

He opened the door a crack and made sure there were no naked women running around before opening it fully. He had his clothes held to his chest like he was covering himself. “Give me those.” I snatched them away and shoved them into the bag, getting a full view of the little bird.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him without a shirt, so I wasn’t surprised by how slender he was, or how toned. But he looked even more miniature with that suit. It was down a little too far past his knees and he kept pulling it up with one hand.

I snorted and he glared. “There a string in those?”

“No, I checked. I’m _not_ going out there if these are gonna fall down.” I bit my lip and looked him over.

“How about you wear these then? I patted my thigh, drawing his attention to my unfortunately pink shorts.

“…They’re pink.”

“Either you wear the pink or you run the risk of flashing a room full of people. Besides, this should be nothing compared to the leotard you used to wear.”

“That was red and green and yellow there was no pink!”

“It was a _leotard_.”

“…Fine.” He respectfully and unnecessarily closed his eyes while I slid out of the shorts, and then took them with some reluctance and closed the door again to change.

“Come ooon, Dick we don’t have all day here,” I heard a sigh and he opened the door again after sweeping the area for other people. These fit him _much_ better. They sat a little lower on his waist, showing off the contours of his hips, and they extended just below his knees. They were tight, but not excessively so. “Sexy.”

“They’re so _pink_.”

“Chill out, Dickie, you’re smokin’.” He blushed and handed me the rejected shorts, before closing his eyes and taking my hand again. I scoffed but led him through the locker room again anyway, making one stop to shove our things into a locker and clicking shut an old combination lock I’d brought with me.

When we finally got to the edge of the pool, Dick’s face was darker than the shorts. “People’re staring at me, not in a good way.”

“You’re imagining it. Besides, _real_ men wear pink.” I grinned at him and hopped into the shallow end of the pool. “Now come on.” He hesitated, a wary expression on that pretty face of his.

“I dunno about this…”

“Oh come on, Dickie, it’s the shallow end. And besides, you’re supposed to be fearless!” I threw my fist into the air for punctuation, which earned a grin. “That’s more like it.” He dropped into a sitting position, feet dangling in the water, “Liiittle further.” And he slid into the water. It was only up to the base of my ribcage, but was up to his chest.

“If I drown, I’m totally haunting you for the rest of your existence.”

I grinned deviously. “I look forward to it.” With the hairband around my wrist I tied my hair into a bun on top of my head.

It only took an hour to get him swimming, although he could do little more than stay afloat and do a doggy paddle that would get scores of ‘exceeds expectations’ on a report card. He really was a natural athlete.

“You’re just good at everything, aren’t you.” I put my hands on my hips and he laughed. Another hour and he was doing backstrokes. Another twenty minutes and he was doing his underwater handstands and flips.

“It’s just like being in the air, just harder to breathe!” his eyes were sparkling. It seemed all his worry of drowning was forgotten, along with the horror that was the pink shorts. He ended up keeping those, which was fine since they looked better on him anyway.

He was a wreck again as soon as we went back to the locker room. He stood in his shower stall, curtain closed and still in his shorts while I washed myself. Once I was dressed again he made me stand guard outside his stall until his record shatteringly short shower was done and he had dry clothes on.

He stood beside me with his eyes closed while I used one of the hand driers to get our suits at least a little less wet, and then ducked my head underneath to de-drench my hair.

“Sure you don’t wanna dry your hair some?”

“The sun’ll take care of that. Now let’s get out of here! I’m a little _over_ whelmed right now.” I laughed and pulled him out by the hand.

“Is it safe?”

“Yes, it’s safe we’re outside. We’re not even in the building anymore.”

“Good,” he sighed in relief and opened his big blues.

We went back to the pool at least a dozen times that summer. By our last trip, Dick was doing back flips and at the very least a double somersault off the diving platforms. The little kids loved watching the kid in the pink do his tricks. He had a fan club that would likely be looking for him the next summer.

“You could teach a swim class.” I joked on our way home one day.

“You mean _you_ could, you taught me how to swim in like one day!”

“Please.” I used a flat tone. “You taught yourself. You’re just good at everything. Face the facts; you’re just too perfect for your own good, Dickie.”

“I’m _not_ perfect.”

“Jason agrees with me.”

“He’s just jealous he can’t do the flips off the diving platform!” Jason had joined us on one of our trips to the pool, and after mocking Dick mercilessly for both his nerves in the locker room and his hot pink shorts, was promptly shown up by Dick in a diving contest. He thought he’d have an advantage since he’d known how to swim before his foster brother. Poor kid had no idea what he was up against.

“ _No one_ can do the flips, Dick, except for varsity and Olympic divers. That’s some high level stuff you talented little circus whelp.” I crossed my arms and stared down at him, he mimicked the action, instead looking up.

“I guess you’re just jealous.” His tone was completely serious and I lost my composure, laughing and slapping him on the back.

“Brat.” He grinned that devilish little grin of his.


	6. Welcome to My Humble Abode

The first time Dick came to my house was not intentional.

I worked at Pop’s two or three days a week that summer, but on my days off I spent most of my time with Dick. I’d been to his foster house a few times, had dinner or watched a movie with him, but mostly we would just roam around Gotham, go to the playground, the pool and especially Pop’s. Once or twice I took him on a long walk to the docks during our first summer together. I had walked him by my building once, and pointed to the street facing window of our thirteenth floor apartment. But he was never supposed to go inside.

Early that August, just weeks before we would start our freshmen year, Dick decided to surprise me by meeting me outside my building instead of waiting at his house for me to fetch him like usual. I was going to take him to the restaurant where Jade used to work, and pay with the money I’d made.

“It’s a Vietnamese place, and she loved the food there, so when she was fourteen and decided to get a job she applied there first thing and got hired to bus tables. She got promoted to waitressing within six months, and made the most out of everyone, because she had an amazing work ethic.” I’d told him this the night before when we were counting the cash I’d earned in his room.

It was silly, at the very least, how proud I felt of Jade’s success in her waitressing job. I thought it was probably because it was her first step to break away from dad, that it made her independent, and in turn made _me_ independent of him, even though I wasn’t the one working.

I felt similarly about my job at Pop’s, even though I really didn’t make much of anything, especially in comparison to the kind of cash Jade used to bring home. Her check was high because she was a great worker, but her tips were high because she was beautiful and charismatic. Between the intensity of her gaze and the way she purred when she spoke, she was unintentionally seductive. That’s not to say that it wasn’t intentional at times. Her boyfriend—what little I saw of him—could have vouched for that.

“The head chef liked her so he used to send stuff home with her sometimes, that’s how I tasted the food. It’s _delicious_. I can’t wait for you to try it.”

Of course, going out to a nice restaurant was not on our usual agenda, and the universe punished this break in routine with swiftness matched only by the Flash and his sidekick in Central City.

My father wasn’t the only unpleasant person who lived in my apartment building. There were plenty of jerks closer to my own age, too. The kind of guys who thought they were better than everyone else, when in reality they were just cruel and big and happened to travel in packs.

Dick didn’t think it through when he turned to walk up the front steps to my paint-chipped building, and some of said jerks decided that my scrawny little bird looked like a good substitute for a punching bag.

It hadn’t happened before because the one time he’d passed the building with me he’d been glued to my side, so we hadn’t been given any trouble. However being with the switch-blade carrying blonde girl from the thirteenth floor was a hell of a lot different than being alone.

Dick wasn’t helpless, and even though they outnumbered him five to one, he fought back. Being agile and at least a little fight smart courtesy of his getting tossed around by his foster siblings, and according to him he managed to get in a punch and two kicks before getting decked in the eye, and then again just below it.

That was when I had come downstairs, thankfully. One of them had Dick by the arms, holding the struggling boy as still as he could, leaving his chest and face open for hits. I saw him as soon as I walked out the buildings front door, intending to go pick him up at his house.

“Hey!” I yelled at them, pulling out the red hilted switchblade Jade had left me when she died. “Get away from him.” I opened the knife, holding it in the ready position for an underhand stab. I narrowed my eyes at them and took a couple strides forward.

Dick, then twelve, was thrown down at my feet, with a quickly swelling eye and cheek. He backed up on the ground, sitting behind my bony, shorts-clad legs. “He tripped.” One of them laughed and the other four followed suit.

“Next time you feel like beating on little boys, _don’t_ or I’ll make minced meat out of you.”

“Whatever you say, little girl.”

I growled in response and put away my knife when they walked off, sill sniggering to themselves. They talked big but they were cowards. Though I’d never have admitted it out loud, I knew they didn’t just leave him—and me—alone because they were scared of what I could do to them, but because they were scared of what my _father_ might do to them. Dad might not have cared for me all that much, but even stupid kids knew better than to risk getting on the man’s bad side. He wasn’t the only jerk in the building, for sure, but he was the biggest.

I kneeled beside the little bird. He was sitting with his legs bent a little at the knees and leaning back on his hands. His head was tilted down. “Lemme see,”

He lifted his face, and not only was he swelling, but he was bleeding. One of them was probably wearing a ring. Bastards. “I’m fine,”

I sighed and cupped his chin, turning his head to the side. He definitely needed to ice those hits, but it looked like the cut would stop bleeding with a little pressure. “Come on, Dickie-bird.” I offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He wiped the dirt off of his shorts and t-shirt and followed me inside.

No one was home that day, dad was working some job or another—I didn’t know any of the specifics, and honestly I chose not to acknowledge them even when I did. But just because he wasn’t home, that didn’t mean I was anywhere near comfortable with bringing him inside that wretched place.

“I’ve never been inside before,” he stated needlessly as I unlocked my door and led him in. The apartment was unimpressive, water-stains on the ceiling and chipping paint, the wallpaper was faded and peeling, and the kitchen, though clean, was the ugliest shade of pea green and had a healthy supply of liquor. I wrapped my arms around Dick’s chest and lifted him to sit him on the yellowing counter, which he protested loudly and squeakily. “I’m not a baby!”

“Oh shut up, bird-boy.” He flushed and I retrieved an old icepack from the otherwise empty freezer, wrapped it in a thin dishtowel and pressed it lightly to his face. He winced.

“I can do it.” He mumbled, taking the pack from me.

“Maggie is gonna kill me for bringing you home with a black eye.” I planted my hands on my hips and frowned, appraising the damage again.

“No she won’t,” he frowned a little, apparently taking the statement literally.

“She’s not gonna be happy, Dick. She’ll probably ban me from the house and forbid you to see me anymore.” I waved my hands around, sighing. I was being dramatic, but still wasn’t too keen on presenting Maggie with an injured foster son.

“How come you’ve never let me in here before?” ever the subject changer, he looked around, taking in his surroundings.

“Because I don’t even like coming here myself, kiddo, there’s a reason I spend most of my time at your place or Pop’s or just _out_.” I watched him carefully, suddenly hyper aware of the rundown apartment, and frankly embarrassed by it.  I shouldn’t have been, Dick didn’t judge. He had no place doing it anyway, what with living in a series of subpar foster homes and before that a box on wheels that didn’t even have a door on the bathroom. He was used to less than perfect living situations. But it was still embarrassing, and honestly it felt wrong, bringing this tiny, vibrant boy into my dingy home.

“Why? Cause of your parents…?” he was timid like he always was when he asked about my family. He still hadn’t met them or seen pictures, and if I had my way he never would.

“Something like that.”

“Can I see your room?” his eyes found me again, and they were sparkling with sudden and completely unwarranted excitement. “I mean we’re already here, sooo,”

“Yeahhh I guess. Come on bird-boy.” I scooped him up before he could jump down from the counter, and walked backwards, too weak to actually carry him but instead half dragging him out of the kitchen.

He squawked. “A-Artemis! Put me down s-stop picking me uuup!” he kicked his feet and I laughed, not letting him go until we were in my bedroom. I closed the door behind us—not that it stayed without some effort on my part, the door never quite fit into the frame again after dad broke it in—and plopped him on his feet.

My room at least was clean and somewhat presentable. Thankfully I’d made my bed that morning and had thrown my laundry into my busted up old hamper instead of on the floor. He gave me his best glare, though it was completely ruined by his blush and I snorted.

“Mean.” He turned from me to look around. “Two beds? I could _totally_ sleep over, it’d be _asterous_.”

“First of all, Dick, boys and girls don’t have sleepovers unless they’re together or related. Second, you’re not ever coming over here again if I can help it.”

“We’re _practically_ related! I mean you’re like the sister I never ever wanted,” He smirked, brat.

“Yeah well you’re no prize either.” I sat down on my bed, rumpling the violet comforter as I did. Dick went back to his investigation, still holding the ice pack to his face. He touched almost everything, dragging his fingers across the top of the waist high dresser that sat against the wall next to my door. He traced the ovular edge of the mirror that hung above it, and then went to the second door, and poked it, looking at me in question. “Bathroom.”

“You have your own bathroom?”

“It’s the only one. Just happens to connect to my room.”

“Oh.” He took extra time rifling through the clothes in the closet. “Ooh,” he pulled on the edge of a short red dress. “Sexy.”

“It’s Jade’s.”

He dropped it immediately and moved away from the closet, walking instead down the aisle between the two beds in the room, looking at the wall my second bed was pressed against. “An Alice in Wonderland poster? I’m prised.” He leaned over the bed to touch the faces of Alice and the Cheshire Cat.

“’Prised’?” He turned back to me and threw himself on my bed, landing on his stomach. He bent his knees and kicked his tiny feet in the air. I lied down on my back, feet still flat on the ground, and looked at him.

“You know, the opposite of _sur_ prised. Prised.”

“You need to write a dictionary.” He grinned. “That was not a play on words.”

“You said Dick-tionary.” He put a slight pause between the first and second syllables. “I like it.”

I rolled my eyes fondly. “Satisfied with your backstage pass to my life?”

“Almost,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raised my eyebrow at the glint in his eyes. “I don’t have anything exciting to show you.”

“I’ve never read Alice in Wonderland,” he said, hunching his shoulders a little. “And you said you and Jade used to read it all the time, right?”

“She’d read me a chapter or two almost every night. I have no idea how many times I’ve actually heard and read that book.”

Dick pushed himself onto his knees and leaned back to retrieve my worn out copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from the windowsill, uncovering the scuff mark of Jade’s boot. He held it out to me. “So, maybe you could read it to me?” he had that guilty, timid expression again, like he was asking too much.

I watched him for a moment, and he squirmed a little under my gaze, resting the ice pack in his lap. I sat up and took that hand, pressing it against his face again. “Keep that on your face.” I took the book from him. “And if you really wanna hear it, I’ll read to you.”

He lit up. “I do, it’s really important to you, so…”

“Then come on, we’ll go to the playground and sit on the carousel for a while before we go to dinner.”

“We can’t stay here?” he looked disappointed.

“Dick…”

“Please? Just for a little while, I like being in your room,” I couldn’t even begin to imagine his reasoning. “Just for…two chapters, then we can leave,” he gave me his puppy-dog eyes and I groaned, moving to lean back against the headboard.

“Fine. C’mere, Dickie-bird,” I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him down next to me, and he curled up against my side, resting his head under my chin. He was such a clingy little thing. I smoothed his silky charcoal hair and placed my chin on his head, before opening to the first page. “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…”

Two chapters turned into five, and I was still reading when I thought I heard the front door open. I stopped and he looked up at me questioningly. “Let me up for a second okay?” he shifted and I climbed off the bed and onto my feet. “Stay here and don’t come out unless I tell you to.”

He nodded, clearly confused and a little nervous because of the sudden jump from wacky character voices to serious tones.

I stepped out of my room and walked slowly down the hall.  “Anybody home?” further investigation revealed that no one was there but us. I looked at the front door, it was still closed. Upon opening it I found a notice stating that our rent was two days overdue. That was what the noise was. “Dick!” I called him from the front door, and he came out immediately.

“What is it? What happened?” he whispered.

“Nothing, but we need to go, anyway. We read way more than one or two chapters.” The worry drained from his expression and he frowned.

“But we’re not even halfway done,”

“Close enough for now, I can read more to you later,” he sighed and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him out the front door and locking it behind us. “Besides, I’m supposed to take you out tonight remember? Maggie extended curfew an hour and everything! We can be crazy people and stay out until nine!”

He grinned, previous disappointment forgotten.

Though all went well enough for Dick’s first visit to my apartment, his second, also unplanned and unwanted, wasn’t as smooth. Once again he decided to come to my building uninvited, except this time it was because I was a couple hours late meeting him at his house. He remembered the way upstairs and knocked on my door a few times before I answered.

His big blue eyes got bigger. “What happened?” there was a good sized, vaguely hand shaped bruise on my throat. I’d been poking it in the mirror earlier. My cheek was turning bluish yellow and I had a small cut on my lip.

“Nothing, Dick. I’m fine.” Unfortunately having your windpipe squeezed tended to make your voice a little hoarse. This only seemed to heighten his anxiety.

“No you’re not!” he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself, reaching up to gingerly touch the bruise. I winced and he retracted his touch. “What happened?”

“I got into it with the guys from downstairs. Relax, I was in the middle of covering it up when you showed up, which by the way I told you _not_ to do, remember?”

“You were three hours late, I got worried,” he frowned, eyes never meeting mine, and staying focused on my bruises.

I sighed and walked to my room. He followed, and sat on my bed while I continued trying to hide the evidence of my altercation. He was quiet for a full five minutes, so I should’ve suspected he was doing something.

“’Cheshire’s Escape’?” my stomach flipped. “What’s this?” I turned around to finding him reading from the beat up red notebook I’d left open on my bed.

“It’s a…story, Dick put it down. Please.” My politeness must have caught him off guard because he glanced at me before reluctantly closing the notebook and setting it down. His eyes locked on my throat again and I turned away, painting on long expired cover-up.

“You’re a writer? How come you never told me?” he sounded curious, if not slightly hurt.

“No, I…I just keep a dream log. Sort of. It’s complicated.” I muttered, giving up on covering the marks and instead wiping off the thick and entirely ineffective layer of make-up onto an old hand towel. I could see him watching me in the mirror.

“Why’d you get into a fight?”

“They were being jerks, no real reason.” It was a horrible lie and he saw right through it, but at least had the decency not to say so.

We both jumped when we heard the front door open none-too-quietly.

My heart skipped several beats. Dad.

“Dick, get up.” I whispered, shutting the door to my room as silently as possible. I took the switchblade from my dresser and shoved it in my pocket, and then pulled my ponytail through the back of one of Jade’s old baseball caps. “Come on.” He got noiselessly to his feet. I opened the window and internally begged it to be quiet, but dad heard the scraping.

“Missy?” his voice was harsh like always. He’d only been gone an hour. Probably was just walking the streets a little to ‘cool off’. As if he ever did.

“Shit.” I gave Dick a shove towards the window and he climbed out onto the fire escape, looking entirely confused. “Start climbing down!” I whispered, following him out the window.

The metal clanged as he started climbing down the stairs, and I shut the window, jumping down after him.

“Keep going, all the way to the bottom.” He looked frightened, more by the covert escape we were making for reasons he didn’t know about than anything. We were on the last level of the fire escape, still one story off the ground when I heard the scraping of my window. I flattened myself against the wall, Dick mimicked me.

“Artemis!” he sounded agitated. “Stupid girl.” It was just loud enough for us to hear, and I winced when the window slammed shut again.

“Come on.” We climbed down to the bottom rung of the latter, still seven or eight feet from the ground. I moved down farther, till I was hanging by my hands and the drop was reduced to three feet. I let go and landed as gracefully as possible, which wasn’t gracefully at all, a shock went through my arms and legs when I dropped onto all fours. “ _Fuck_.”

There was a light thud as Dick landed on the ground beside me, having taken the fall perfectly. “Are you okay?” he rushed to my side.

“I’m fine, Dickie-bird. Just a couple scrapes.” I held up my hands for him to see. There was gravel embedded in my now slightly bloody and inflamed palms and knees

“I’m sorry, if I hadn’t shown up-“

“Shh, it’s fine, now come on let’s get out of here.” I stood and he grabbed my wrist, conscious of my scraped palm. The little bird held on as we jogged away from my building. He didn’t even know what he’d been apologizing for.

I thanked any and all gods we’d gotten out of there before dad met him.

We slowed to a comfortable pace, walking to nowhere in particular as we often did. He didn’t let go of me. “Who was that?” he spared me an I’m-sorry-for-asking-but-I’m-curious glance.

“It was my dad.” I answered quietly. He squeezed my wrist, and I heard him swallow.

“Was he…is he the one who?” he raised his other hand up to touch his neck. He’d seen me with little bruises and cuts before, usually on my arms or legs. He’d come to believe I was a klutz, since my excuse of knocking into things was backed up by my tendency to smack into sharp corners while I was with him. They’d just never been indicative of a fight. And they’d never been quite this dark or hand-shaped.

“It’s no big deal, Dickie. It was just a stupid fight.” I didn’t make eye contact. I wasn’t lying, it _was_ a stupid fight. And it _wasn’t_ a big deal. It wasn’t as though it was the first time. Apparently this was all the answer he needed, because he didn’t ask me about it again.


	7. Batnip

Our first day of school, I met him at his house, intent on walking him to class. Maggie intercepted us and took our picture, several times, despite Dick’s embarrassed protests and my own quiet objections. “Why don’t you let Seth drive you to school? He’s taking Sam,”

“Ahh that’s okay,” I waved my hand sheepishly. No way was I getting in a car with those idiots.

“We’re gonna walk, you know, exercise,” Dick supplied quickly, grabbing my mostly healed hand and pulling me in the direction of the school. “Bye Maggie!”

“Bye kids! Have a great first day!” we waved at her and continued walking, Dick kept hold of my hand a while.

“She was…”

“Totally whelming.” He finished with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and taking his hand from mine to shove in his pocket. “I’m sorry…”

I laughed and he flushed. “Don’t be, least _someone’s_ excited about this.” I looked him over. “You look sharp today. Hair all slicked back, and a polo shiiirt,” I popped his collar and he glared at me, folding it back down.

“Shut up, I like to look good the first day; I did it last year too, you just didn’t see because you didn’t know me yet.” He hadn’t transferred in until early November, and even then I hadn’t seen him until his second day. I’d been in the library working on a project the first.

“Well I’m disappointed I missed it, you look like a serious heartbreaker, especially in those shorts,” I fell back a few steps, placing a hand on my hip and giving a low whistle while eyeing his admittedly well-toned backside.

He slapped his hands over his butt, turning to glare at me, looking utterly mortified. “Dude!”

I laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Lighten up, handsome. Not my fault you’re so pretty.” He did look good. Were he two years older, fourteen like me, and not undeniably my surrogate baby brother, I’d ogle him shamelessly.

Unfortunately it didn’t seem that the rest of the student body agreed. Dick was shoved into several lockers throughout the day, and had his bag stolen more than once, which of course led to _me_ shoving some people into lockers.

The girls in our gym class wrinkled their noses and made various noises of disgust when they saw my no less than skeletal body. We were each hit several different times during the welcome-to-hell dodge ball game, although I was sure to peg as many of the culprits as I could in either the face (which technically was against the rules) or in the general area below the waist and above the knees.

By the end of the day we had each been hit, shoved, robbed and all around degraded in more ways than one. His hair, which really had looked wonderful that morning, was a complete mess. It’d been ruined during dodge ball and so he’d showered and washed the gel out. It dried sticking up in every direction. We were both starting to bruise from the game, too. I was beginning to look like I’d been hit by a truck because of all the extra hits I’d gotten that day. I was busy planning my revenge while we were walking to Pop’s for some well-deserved ice cream.

When we arrived and were each given a new flavor to try—it was catnip—we sat down in our usual place on the window sill, and Dick all but collapsed against my shoulder. “Everyone in high school sucks.”

“Agreed. But you just wait, I’m going to knock them down a few pegs as soon as I figure out a plan.” He hooked an arm around mine, head still on my shoulder. I took a bite of my ice cream. “Hey Pop! This stuff is really good!”

“You think so? I wasn’t sure it’d go over too well,” he paused in wiping down a table.

Dick finally tasted his. “Wow,” he took a second lick. “This is really asterous,”

“Good! I’m glad to hear it,” Pop had slowly picked up on some of Dick’s additions to the English language. He had a general idea of what the little bird was saying.

“Why couldn’t high school have turned out like catnip ice cream?” he sighed and had another lick.

“Because unfortunately life is not like ice cream, life is like…paint.”

“Paint?” he sounded genuinely confused.

“Yes, paint. Because a lot of times, you think you like the color, until you put it on your wall and then it turns out hideous. And even when you get the right color, it fades and chips over time anyway.”

“That is so depressing.” He brought his legs up to his chest, heels resting on the edge of the window sill.

“Yup, but that’s why we have Wonderland. It’s someplace new and different and amazing. Just have to find the right rabbit hole.”

“Did you find one?” he looked up at me, licking ice cream off his lips.

“Yeah, I go there every night when I sleep.”

“So…it’s not real?”

“Is Wonderland real? Or did Alice imagine it?”

“Well…that’s all about how you look at it.”

“Exactly,” he looked back down at his ice cream, and seemed like he was contemplating something.

“Artemis?”

“Yeah Dickie-bird?”

“Am…am I part of your Wonderland?” he didn’t look at me. He was probably making that guilty face again.

“Actually,” he tensed. “You are. You’re a big part of my Wonderland. And there, you were adopted by the richest man in Gotham, and he treats you like a prince. He understands you because he lost his parents when he was a kid, too. And at night, you two patrol the streets and fight crime.”

“I’m…I’m a superhero?” he sounded elated and skeptical.

“Yup, you guys don’t have powers though, you’re just amazing fighters and you swing from building to building, and you’re smart and strong.”

He sat up and looked at me. “Do I have a Superhero name? Something cool, like Batman?”

“Of course you do!” I gave him a scandalized look. “You wanna know what it is?”

He nodded, looking far too absorbed.

“Robin, the Boy Wonder! You picked it because of your parents. I never picked a name for your guardian, though.”

“We can just call him Batman, or The Grey Ghost, like that old TV show,” he grinned.

“Definitely not The Grey Ghost. That show was _way_ corny.”

“So for now we’re Batman and Robin?” I nodded. “That has a nice ring to it.” He smiled lightly and I ruffled his hair.

“You guys are the only heroes, though, there’s not a bunch of others like in real life. I mean, Superman, and the Flash and Green Arrow and all of them aren’t in my Wonderland. But you do sometimes go across the country or even out of the country to help people and solve cases. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, are you a hero too? Are we allies?”

“Well…you don’t know me yet, I’m still in training. I have to get a lot better to run with someone as damn talented as you are,” I gave him a look that bled jealousy and he grinned.

“Yeah, I guess it’s true you’re not as amazing as me,” he said it like he was used to people aspiring to be just like him.

I swatted at him and he squeaked, ducking my hand. “Brat.”

“Hey, I can’t help the truth!”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he mirrored the action. Pop could be heard laughing to himself from behind the counter where he served a couple in their twenties.

School never really got better, and the let’s-torture-the-grade-skipper campaign didn’t let up, even well into October. Dick was a victim of constant bullying and I doled out more black eyes in those few months then in my entire life.

It was taking its toll on my little bird. He wasn’t quite as cheerful, and although he’d always been clingy it seemed to take on a different meaning. Less affectionate and more searching for comfort.

Halloween came and Dick didn’t even want to go trick-or-treating, which, although I didn’t want to either, made me a little sad. He was twelve; he should be dressing up like Kid Flash or something and asking strangers for free candy. But instead we sat on the couch in his living room, huddled up under a thick blanket and watched reruns of bad horror flicks where the scariest thing was the acting.

We were home alone, Sam and Seth were at some Halloween party we hadn’t been invited to and Jason was out with John and Maggie conning people out of extra candy. I was leaning back against the corner of the wrap around couch, and he was snuggled up against me, head tucked under my chin and body between my legs. I had my arms wrapped tightly around him, and would squeeze his shoulder whenever one of the jump-scares would catch me off guard. He’d laugh a little when he heard my heartbeat speed up briefly.

“Oh shut up. Not all of us have nerves of steel.” I muttered into his hair. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders again, covering my hands and most of my arms.

“You don’t need ‘em, you’re strong already so there’s no point in them being made of steel.” That was the first time I’d ever seen—or rather heard—Dick cry. He buried his face into the front of Cheshire’s hoodie, and his shoulders started to shutter now and then.

“Dickie…what’s wrong?” I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so emotional, it wasn’t as though the movie was _that_ bad. “Dick…?” I shook his shoulder lightly.

“I…I don’t wanna go to school on Monday…I _hate_ it there…” my heart tore its self into pieces.

“Dick…Dickie-bird, it’s okay,” I could hear the discomfort in my own voice, I had no idea how to comfort a crying person, let alone someone who was normally the biggest and brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

“I’m sorry, this is so pathetic…” his voice cracked and my chest tightened.

“No its not…look, everything’s gonna be okay. All those people are _jerks_ and they’re just pissed you’re so much smarter than they are. And that you can do all those awesome flippy things that you do, and that their lives are so completely _boring_ compared to yours cause you were a performer who got to fly in front of thousands of people and that was your job and that you’ve seen the world,”

“They think I’m a _freak_.”

“You’re _not_ a freak. You’re the most incredible person I’ve _ever_ met. Those lowlifes don’t even deserve to breathe your air let alone talk to you and they’re just jealous and pathetic. _I_ don’t even deserve to breathe your air, kid. You’re _amazing_.” Great. My hero worship for my twelve year old best friend was showing.

“You do _too_ deserve to breathe my air Artemis,” he sniffled and hugged me and clutched the front of my hoodie a little tighter.

“I don’t really think so,”

“Yes you do, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re my best friend too, Dick. In fact you’re basically the _only_ friend I’ve ever had, so you get the title by default, but if I had other friends? You’d _still_ be the best one.”

“Thank you…”

I ran my fingers through his hair a few times and in a completely out of character moment, pressed a kiss into his hair. He tensed a little before lifting his head just enough to kiss the right side of my jaw, and then buried his face in my neck again. I swallowed and blushed deeper then I would’ve liked.

That was the first kiss I’d ever received under any circumstances that I could remember.

I held him tighter.


	8. A Grave Site

The first time Dick ever saw me cry was on December fifteenth. After a particularly unpleasant day at school, we met outside his last class of the day and exited the school out of the closest exit as per usual. But this time I didn’t lead us to Pop’s or the playground. I walked in a completely different direction, and though he was confused, Dick followed me.

“Come on, where are we going? You’ve gotta tell me,” I shook my head in amusement, pulling up the hood of my Cheshire sweatshirt. He mimicked the action and took my hand. “Pleaaase?”

“Hush,” I squeezed his hand and he did as he was told, frowning ever so slightly.

It took a half hour to get to where we were going, and Dick’s eyes widened when he realized we weren’t walking past the eerily white cemetery, but that it was our destination. I kept hold of his hand and guided him past some neglected gravestones and some that were covered in roses and an assortment of other flowers. It was only four, but the sky was still dim.

When we stopped it was in front of a simple grey stone, rectangular in shape and about three feet tall. I brushed the snow off the top of it with my free hand, shaking out my sleeve after. I removed my thin winter coat and laid it in the snow to sit on so my faded jeans wouldn’t soak through. Dick sat next to me, his shoulder pressed against mine.

He read the inscription on the headstone “’Jade Nguyen’” then it was like someone smacked him with a brick. “Oh…Artemis why are we…?”

“It’s her birthday today,” my breath caught in my throat. “I wanted to wish her a happy birthday, she’d be nineteen, we could’ve gotten our own place like she talked about, or we could’ve gotten in that car she was gonna buy and driven far, far away cause she can legally drive in every state now…”

“Do you miss her?” he knew it was a stupid question, of course I missed her, but he asked anyway to fill the likely uncomfortable silence.

“Yes…” I inhaled sharply and the tears in my eyes made good on their threat and spilled down my cheeks. “I miss her so much,” I clamped my free hand over my mouth to try and stifle a sob. I felt mortified, crying in front of him; even though it was my own damn fault he was there. But it was nice that someone was there to help me manage the sudden overflow of emotion.

Dick let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around my shoulders as tightly as he could manage and I leaned against him, pressing my cheek against the hood covering his head. “Cheshire…Jade, I miss her so much, Dick I want her back…” there was a stutter in my breathing.

“She’s with you ya know, she’s always with you, and you can always see her in your Wonderland. Cheshire’s never really gone.” I pulled him closer, fingertips digging into his back. “Whenever I miss my mom and dad, I try to remember that.”

A couple of minutes worth of crying went by before he spoke again. “We should sing her happy birthday,” he pulled away from me, hands still on my shoulders, and he offered a smile.

I nodded and he took my hand again. We turned towards her headstone and started to sing.

“Happy birthday to you…” Our voices, or at least mine, were shaky at best. But I made it through the song without stopping.

It was dark when I finally got Dick back home, and Maggie jumped us as soon as we got inside, bombarding us with questions on our whereabouts. Jason was sitting on the couch watching us with a frown.

“It was my fault, we were visiting my sister’s grave and we lost track of time,” I apologized before Dick could find a way to take the blame for missing curfew.

Maggie hadn’t been angry to begin with, and now instead of annoyed she was just relieved we hadn’t been murdered and dumped in an alley somewhere. Knowing she was someone who knew so much about Gotham and worried about things like her kids not coming home because they were raped or mugged or slaughtered or kidnapped or something equally disturbing, made me realize how much she must have trusted me. I took Dick out nearly every day, walked him around the city for hours and spent nearly every waking moment with the little bird, and she would barely bat an eyelash.

The woman had to have had serious faith in my ability to protect him. “I suppose that is a reasonable excuse.” She cupped my cheek, an overly familiar gesture that used to bother me. “I know you’re a good girl, and that you’d never let anything happen to Richard. But next time don’t be late.” Her tone and expression were harsh and extremely serious. That was her I’m-a-strict-foster-mother-and-don’t-take-no-shit face.

I nodded. “Sorry again, Miss Maggie.” She had always insisted I refer to her by first name. Although I had no problem doing so when I was talking to Dick, calling her ‘Maggie’ to her face felt wrong. We reached a silent compromise when I tacked Miss on the front.

“Good. Now will you be staying for dinner?” before I could open my mouth to respond she pushed past us and into the kitchen. “Jason! Set another plate out for Artemis.”

“Guess you’re staying,” Dick mumbled, smirking a little.

“On the next commercial!” Jason huffed, eyes glued back on the television.

“Jason Todd!” That was John’s voice. Maggie must have made a frustrated face.

“I just wanna watch my fucking show this is fucking ridiculous…” Jason muttered another slew of curses that no ten year old should know as he stomped past us to the kitchen. He never disobeyed John. None of the boys did, and frankly neither would I if he ever gave me an order. He demanded too much respect. He reminded me of my father in that way, although he was intimidating in a completely different way, silent strength, and not violent fury.

“Come on,” Dick took my hand and dragged me to the couch, snuggling right into my side when we sat down. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, something I now did without a second thought.

Turns out Jason had been watching some History channel special about the weaponry used in the Second World War. Not too surprising, the kid had a serious fascination with guns and pointy things. Once when he came to the playground with Dick and me, I showed him Jade’s switchblade and he rattled off a slew of facts about it, knew the year it was made, what it was made of, and just about everything else. I was definitely turbed, heavy on the dis.

Despite his aggressive personality, I genuinely liked the kid. He was opinionated and blunt and I respected that about him, though sometimes that made him hard to get along with. I like to think a part of him probably liked me back. I was pretty sure, anyway.

“You better notta changed the damn channel,” he spat, stomping over to the couch.

“We didn’t touch it, kid.” Dick sighed against my neck.

“Good.” He hopped up on the couch on Dick’s other side, looking us over with a disapproving glare. “You two screwing yet or what,”

“Gross, Jay!” Dick then proceeded to kick the red head in the thigh. Jason’s eyes lit up with fury at the attack and he growled. “Don’t get all ferocious with me you’re the one saying creepy stuff,” Dick glared at him, adjusting his position so he was leaning back against me.

“Well you guys are so fucking cozy all the god damn time I just _figured_ you were probably fucking her.” He crossed his arms.

“Yeah right, Jay. Besides we’ve been over this, she’s like my sister.” Dick gave him an exasperated glare.

“But she’s _not_ your sister.”

“And you’re not my brother does that mean _we_ should be having sex all the time?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

“GROSS!”

“Exactly.”

“And that doesn’t mean I think you’re my brother, either so don’t go getting ideas like I don’t hate you or something.” Those pale green eyes were fixed on Dick and clearly conveyed the panic his scowl was supposed to hide. Jason wanted everyone to believe he hated them, especially Dick. In reality he worshipped the ground Dick walked on and got all angry-momma-bear whenever Dick was threatened in any way. Jason would’ve slaughtered me for thinking so, but it was adorable.

Dick was probably showing off that all-knowing grin, because Jason blushed darkly.

“Why are _you_ so quiet anyway?” he turned his attention to me. “Never mind I don’t care!” he shushed us quickly when the television declared that the commercial break was over.

Jason didn’t blink once until the next break, and Dick continued to press his back against my front. I still had an arm over him, and he was playing with my fingers, examining my nails as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. They were long, too long. And there was dirt under them that never seemed to go away no matter how hard I scrubbed. My nail beds were pink and unfortunately tender. My hands were always painfully dry and cracked during the winter, so they bled a lot.

Maggie’s timing was perfect, and she called us to the table just as the ending credits for Jason’s weapon special started to play.

I slept over at Dick’s house that night; Maggie even let me stay in his and Jason’s room, though she had seemed slightly less approving when I slept in Dick’s bed with him.

I had to borrow clothes to sleep in, and Dick offered up some pajamas without a second thought. I went to the bathroom to change, passing Seth and Sam’s room on the way there. It was a disaster area, and honestly I was a little afraid some kind of radioactive mutant would attack me if I got too close.

The shirt I borrowed from Dick turned out to be a crop top when I wore it, and the shorts that went past his knees were an inch above mine. I stood in front of the scratched up bathroom mirror for a moment, looking myself over. Dick wouldn’t be grossed out by how much my hip bones and ribs stuck out. He already knew how malnourished I looked because he’d seen me in a bathing suit. But there was something about him seeing my bare stomach that made me a little ashamed, especially since he was so well muscled.

I picked up my jeans, Cheshire hoodie and undergarments up off the floor (Maggie had said she wanted to wash my clothes for me so I could wear them the next day, which was fine, I usually slept commando anyway) and went downstairs to toss them into the laundry basket she’d shown me earlier.

When I walked back into their mostly clean room, Jason was staring at me from his side of the room where he was perched on his completely unmade bed. “No bra huh?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the little brat. “Shut up you little lecher.”

Confusion flashed across his face—he probably didn’t know what the word meant—and he scowled at me. “What? It’s not like there’s much to see anyway.”

“Dude, shut _up_.” Dick tossed a sneaker halfheartedly at his foster brother.

Jason blew a raspberry and threw himself down on his mattress. I moved over to Dick’s bedside and squeaked involuntarily when he dragged me down with him. He pulled his thick blankets up over my shoulders and held me tightly to his chest, my head tucked under his chin.

“Dick and Artemis sittin’ in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G,”

“Shut up Jason.” Dick lifted his chin off my head and smoothed my hair. I sighed when I felt his jaw on my head again.

“Goodnight boys, Artemis.” Maggie’s voice broke the silence when she shut off the lights and closed the door almost all the way but not quite. She _really_ trusted me; letting me sleep in there like that.

“Artemis?”

“What, Jason.”

“Why’re you so quiet today?” this was a rare moment of sincerity, and an even rarer moment of concern for someone other than himself.

“Leave her alone, Jay.”

“I was just-“

“It’s fine, Dickie-bird. I’m okay, Jay, it’s just been a long day.”

“Whatever.” I guess he was satisfied with my answer because he had that snotty tone back, “Goodnight, _lovers_.”

“Goodnight Hoodie.” Dick sighed. I smiled a little. I’d always liked the nickname ‘Hoodie’. It was in reference to Jason’s wardrobe, every shirt he owned had a hood, _all_ of them. Even the ones he wore in the summer time. Dick had joked it probably made it easier to hide his face when he went into pickpocket mode, which was often when he was around me. I’d always turn around to find him holding Jade’s switchblade.

I’d made sure to stash it in my backpack before I changed.

I snaked my arms around the little bird, breathing in deeply. His scent was all around me. Normally it’s indistinguishable from the smells of the city, which are overpowering and to an outsider completely unpleasant. But here, in his bed and in his arms, wrapped up in his blankets and clothes with my nose resting against his muscular chest, I was completely engulfed in it. I felt safe, which while nice was completely foreign to me.

It occurred to me, while I was shamelessly breathing him in and listening to his oversized heart beating inside his chest, that he was probably trying to comfort me. That was why he was holding me like this, instead of the reverse which he seemed to prefer. My eyes burned with tears.

This boy was so caring, so selfless, so talented and so _deserving_ , and he was wasting his comfort on me. Suddenly I felt guilty for crying earlier. He shouldn’t have to see me like that. I was his self-appointed protector and he was comforting _me_.

Another wave of guilt hit me when I realized I felt guilty for showing Dick all the things I feel when I think of Jade, of Cheshire, like she somehow wasn’t important enough to cry over.

I stifled my whimper, but my intake of breath was rough enough that Dick reacted. “Shh.”

I started to cry again. I missed Jade, loved her with every fiber of my being. Felt guilty for crying in front of Dick. Felt guilty for feeling guilty about crying in front of Dick because I missed Jade. Felt guilty for crying about feeling guilty for feeling guilty about crying in front of Dick because I desperately missed my sister.

Conflicting emotions _suck_.

But Dick’s tiny hand rubbing circles on my back, his thin, strong arms pressing me against his chest, along with his heartbeat, gentle whispers and comforting scent made it all better, the combination of it all sending me to sleep like a lullaby.

I could’ve killed someone when the alarm clock went off the next morning and ruined everything. It was the best night’s sleep I’d gotten in a long time, and I found myself missing him when I went to bed alone the next several nights.


	9. Drink Me

I didn’t visit my mother that Christmas. When I had called ahead, the nurse said she was too tired for any visitors, and that I should try again the following day. I was a little disappointed, I really did love my mother, and I didn’t see enough of her. I really just wished she would move back home, but that wasn’t possible. I did see my father, though he was passed out most of the day after drinking too much the night before.

He usually worked around that time of year, so I wasn’t used to seeing him on Christmas day. Of course, that didn’t mean I enjoyed seeing him, conscious or not.

But mom did. He had visited her on Christmas Eve, which was probably why she was too tired to see me. She lit up around him, and he was almost gentle around her. The downside was that who he was in front of her was a lie. Maybe he was sweet when they met, _maybe_ , but not now. If there was one positive thing about my father, it was that he loved my mother. It actually hurt him to see her like she was. Jade said that was why he drank, why he was so angry and erratic. I liked to think that was the truth. But I never truly believed it, because regardless of how he supposedly felt about my mother, he was still passed out drunk on the couch.

I tossed a blanket haphazardly over him and brought the empty whiskey bottle over to the kitchen and rinsed it out in the sink before tossing it into a recycling bin that saw use only from me.

Even though I couldn’t see my mother, I did have something to look forward to that day. I’d gotten an invitation to spend Christmas dinner with Dick’s foster family, and I was genuinely excited. Unfortunately Dick said to dress nicely, which was kind of a problem. Everything I owned was ratty and old. Cheshire had a few nice outfits, though, so I decided to see what I could find in our closet.

There were only three dresses that really made any sense for dinner at John and Maggie’s, and the longer I stared at them the more nervous I became. I’d eaten there dozens of times, and at that point I’d spent the night once, as well. They knew me, so it wasn’t as though they’d be appraising my appearance. But _I_ would be. I’d never been into dresses or skirts, and I was too thin and bony to fill them out anyway.

“Damn it, it’s just a dress, Artemis, get it together.” I muttered, deciding to screw it and just pick one. I stripped off my towel to put on my undergarments and Cheshire’s dress.

I’d already showered, rubbing my skin raw washing my hair. I scrubbed under my nails until at long last they were clean. When I got out I found some very old lotion, made sure it still smelled nice, and lathered my cracked and dry skin until it was soft and—for once—touchable.

It took some maneuvering but I finally managed to get the dress zipped. I walked over to the ovular mirror on my wall and took a deep breath, looking myself over. In the end I’d ended up choosing the red dress Dick had spotted in the closet a few months prior. It was satin, and the skirt was knee length. The fabric was bunched up on my left hip and secured with a bow—not that any of my thigh was visible. The dress was a little big, but the bunched fabric kind of hid that, and the spaghetti straps held the top of the dress up just well enough it wouldn’t fall too far.

Not to say I liked being in a dress, because I most certainly did _not_ , but I actually felt…pretty. I still looked like a mess, in comparison to Cheshire, and most other girls for that matter, but it was a personal best. I decided to throw my damp hair into a bun on the top of my head, thinking maybe it’d make my less than polished appearance seem at least a little deliberate.

I bit my lip, and, realizing that was as good as it was going to get, I threw on my snow boots (I didn’t have any dress shoes to speak of, and it was snowing anyway) and my thin winter coat.

The walk over was freezing and nerve-wracking. I hoped I didn’t overdress, or underdress, or look completely ridiculous, and even though I knew they never would, I hoped they wouldn’t laugh at me.

It took a few minutes of shivering on the front stoop before I finally worked up the courage to knock on the door. I heard rapid footsteps and the door swung open, to reveal Jason, who was—probably against his will—in a button down shirt and dress pants.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you wearing a dress?” I glared daggers at the little brat and shoved past him into the heated house, rubbing my arms. “You are! Yer wearing a dress!” he snickered and I glared again.

“Is that _gel_ in your hair?” I smirked when he scowled. “Don’t you look just _adorable_.”

“Bite me, _bitch_.” He spat, his cheeks the faintest shade of red.

“Hoodie, don’t be a jerk,” Dick sighed, following his voice from the next room. He blinked at me. “You really _are_ in a dress,”

I flushed and threw my hands up in the air. “That’s it! I’m going home to change.”

“No!” Dick grabbed my arm as I started to turn back toward the door. “Sorry I’m just surprised, lemme take your coat,” Jason rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, muttering something about the little bird being a kiss-ass.

I handed Dick my coat, and kicked off my boots, crossing my arms self-consciously under my chest. I bit my lip as he looked me over, expression unreadable.

“Wow, you look-“

“Hot,” Jason finished, his face disbelieving again. Dick cuffed the back of his head. “What?! She does! For a bony little bitch,”

I flushed again, half out of frustration half out of embarrassment.

“Dude, just go away.” He shoved Jay lightly, and the ten year old called him a colorful name before he stomped out of the room. “Sorry about him.” He sighed.

“I’m used to it by now, remember?” I rolled my eyes fondly.

“But he was right, you _do_ look really good,” he smiled at me, and all my frustration melted away.

“Thanks, Dickie,” I exhaled. “You look great, too,” he was wearing an outfit similar to Jason’s, but he filled out the shoulders in his shirt a little bit more than the younger boy. “Handsome, even,”

He blushed and hugged me to hide it. “Thanks for coming, Artemis.”

I hugged him back—he was so warm. “Thanks for inviting me,”

The little bird pulled me into the kitchen, where the rest of his nicely dressed foster family was either sitting or rushing around putting final touches on the meal. John complimented me on my dress; he told me I looked lovely, complete with a small, approving smile. I found myself especially happy with his reaction, though I wasn’t sure why. He pulled out my chair for me, and as I sat down I wondered if it was because he was usually so stoic—chivalrous though he was. A small part of me thought that maybe it was because my own father would never say something like that to me.

Seth and Sam gave their own extremely suggestive compliments as well, and honestly I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t at least _slightly_ pleased by that. Mostly I was just irritated by the idiots. Michael just gave a nod hello.

It turned out I had arrived just in time to be served dinner, which was delicious. Maggie had cooked a goose, it was the first time I’d ever eaten any, and a whole bunch of sides. I ate painstakingly slowly, trying to avoid getting any food on my borrowed dress—though I guess Cheshire really couldn’t have done anything about it if I ruined it anyway.

Dick sat next to me, telling me about his morning, how he and his foster brothers had gotten new clothes for Christmas, which was not a hit. Apparently Jason had been completely miserable until he came across the small, single-bladed pocket knife he’d received in his stocking.

Dick couldn’t wait to show me the two DVDs he got, both of them old movies I’d never heard of. The names of the actors meant nothing to me either, but he was so excited I decided I’d watch them with him anyway.

“Come upstairs with me?” he took my hand when dinner and desert were over, and gave me an almost nervous look.

“Sure.”

When we entered his room, he had me sit on his bed and close my eyes. Guilt pooled in my stomach. Had he gotten me something? I had nothing to give in return.

After a few moments of rustling around on his part and complete shame on mine, he sat next to me.

“Ok, open your eyes,”

I did, and when I saw what he was holding up, my throat tightened up. “Oh, Dickie-bird…” my voice cracked a little. Dangling from his slender fingers was a thin silver chain, with a miniature glass bottle with a mint green tint, and on its own little chain hung a tiny silver tag that said ‘drink me’ in a flourished script. “It’s…”

“Do you like it? I wasn’t sure, they had other ones with the Cheshire cat, but I figured you already had that hoodie and those earrings, a-and they had ones with Alice’s face, you know like from the Disney movie? But I couldn’t remember if you liked the movie, did you ever say? But anyway…I…I’m sorry if it’s dumb…” he finished lamely, clearly made nervous by my silence.

“No, Dickie it’s perfect,” I turned away from him and lifted the hair that had fallen from my bun out of the way, and he clasped it around my neck. When I turned back to him I had the charm between my fingers. “Thank you so much,”

“So…you like it?”

I scoffed and trapped him in a bone crushing hug—or at least as close to bone crushing as my pathetic arms could manage. “I _love_ it. I just wish I had something to give in return,” I sighed against his neck.

“Just promise you won’t stop liking me?” he sounded genuine, almost a little scared that something like that could happen.

“Don’t have to; it’s already a certainty that I’m going to be with you until we die, old and with severe dementia.” He hugged me back and laughed into my shoulder.

“Hey, Artemis?”

“Yeah, Dickie-bird?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,”


	10. You Know This One?

New Year’s Eve was a perfect sequel to the perfect Christmas. We had decided to go to Amusement Mile—the busiest, most tourist friendly portion of the city—to check out the festivities. Everyone was out, rich people, poor people, working class, high school kids, senior citizens, everyone. The main square was packed, and everyone was shoulder to shoulder. The crowd didn’t even begin to thin out when we eventually started gravitating towards the docks to see the fireworks. In fact it may have gotten worse.

Dick was ecstatic, and only got more excited as the night went on. He inspected every street vendor’s cart, looking at all the different types of food (as if there’s much variety among burgers and dogs). It was like watching a kid in a candy shop, though in his case a more accurate comparison would be watching a kid on a jungle gym.

He dragged me up and down the streets, insisting we see all the street performers. None of them wowed me quite like watching Dick do a casual backflip while walking down the side walk, but he thought they were all fantastic. He would point and stare in awe, grin when they occasionally acknowledged our general vicinity in the crowd, and laugh when they did something funny.

We spent the longest period of time watching a pretty college student with a vintage clothing style play an acoustic guitar in a shop window. I thought at first her act was solely instrumental, and was bored quickly, until she finally started singing.

Her voice was clear and full, like a well cut diamond. I found myself really taken by her melodies.

I had never listened to much music, but I guess Dick did, because when I looked down at him, wanting to make a comment on how pretty her voice was, I found him softly singing along and looking to be completely under her musical spell.

“You know the song?”

“Yeah, it’s by The Fray” He looked up at my and gave a lop-sided grin. “It’s called ‘You Found Me’.”

“Oh,” Never heard of it. “It’s pretty,”

There was a brief pause in the music as the girl announced the name of her next—and apparently final—song for the night.

Dick grinned and squeezed my hand. “Listen to this one, it’s extremely asterous.” He sang along again, only loud enough for me to hear. His voice was wonderful, how one person could be so perfect all the time was beyond me. I thoroughly enjoyed the three or four minutes that the song lasted.

“What was it called again?” I looked down at him while the people around us were dispersing and the performer was thanking the shrinking audience as she packed up her guitar.

“’Somewhere Only We Know’, you seriously don’t know it?” he seemed scandalized.

“No, I seriously don’t.”

“Ridiculous.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m so teaching you.”

“Why? You can just sing it for me. I don’t need to know it by heart,” I looked down at him and he gave me a look.

“You definitely do, it could be our theme song.” He seemed pleased with his idea and grinned. “It’s _definitely_ our theme song.”

“Since when do we need a theme song?” I scoffed, because frankly it was an absurd idea, though if I said it out loud Dick would have said it was ‘totally surd’ or something.

“Since I realized life is incomplete without theme songs.”

“And when did you realize that?”

“Just now,” I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

“Whatever you say bird boy, though I don’t think it really makes sense.” He looked thoughtful and we started walking again.

“Well, the song’s kind of about hitting a rough patch, like, he’s at a point in his life where he’s feeling lost and overwhelmed and like there’s nothing familiar anymore. And he doesn’t even know where to start to fix things. So he goes to this special place where he and his friend or girlfriend or whatever would go to be alone and figure things out. And it’s about having something or someone to rely on when everything’s falling apart.” I looked down at him, he was frowning. “It’s how I felt when my parents died, and, how I felt every time I’d get moved to a new home, or start a new school. And I wished I had someone there to help me, but mom and dad were unreachable, obviously, so…”

I understood, to a point, what he meant. The feeling of drowning and praying that someone was there to pull you back to the surface. I definitely felt that way when I lost Cheshire.

“But with you, I don’t feel like that. You’re that person for me and if I ever get hurt or in trouble or anything, I know you’ll be there to kick ass and take names and make me feel wanted and to talk me through it, you know?” his face was red, and I had a feeling so was mine.

“Dick…god damn it you always say everything so perfectly and I have no idea how to respond without sounding stupid,” he blinked at me. “It’s…I’m…what you said. Basically. Just, you know, without the moving and the new schools and with my sister, not my parents…” Good god I sucked at communicating.

He squeezed my hand in what I assumed was understanding. “Can we get food now?”

I nodded, and felt like a horrible person, leaving it at that. He was basically telling me I was the most important person in his life. That he trusted me with everything that he had. And I said ‘yeah what you said’. There was no way I could leave it at that, because I felt things for him to. I cared about him more than anyone else, he was my whole world. I wanted to protect him from all the bad things in the world. I wanted to give him everything he deserved, and I’d work my fingers to the bone to do it. I’d die for him, if he needed me to. He was my best friend, my other half, if I wanted to get cliché about it. But I had no way to say those things without sounding like I was reading from a script. He deserved better than that.

So I decided to do something I don’t normally do. Something that someone as physical a being as Dick would understand perfectly. After taking a few long moments to work up the courage, l leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

His next breath was something close to a surprised gasp and he looked at me, a shy smile on his pretty face. “Thank you,” he voiced softly.

I ruffled his hair with the hand he wasn’t squeezing. I hoped I’d managed to convey at least part of what I felt for him.

It was a half hour to midnight, and the throngs of people were near impenetrable. We had gotten hotdogs off of a street vender and a large soda to share, and just barely managed to keep from losing them as we—or rather I—forced our way through the crowd to find a spot to sit by the water. We had to hop a fence to get there, but we found a great view, just at the end of one of the yacht club’s docks. We weren’t supposed to be there, but the slightly intoxicated people sitting in their boats didn’t seem to mind.

“These are _so_ asterous.” Dick took a way-too-big bite of his dog, getting mustard all over his face, which was flushed from the cold.

“Agreed. I’m completely concerted.” I took a bite just as obnoxious as his and he laughed when ketchup found its way onto my nose.

“That’s a good look for you Rudolph,”

“Says the boy with a mustard mustache,” I wiped the ketchup off on my fingertip and licked it clean, he did the same with his mustard and then waited impatiently for his turn to sip our soda.

“Don’t drink it all!” he pouted and I smirked with the straw in my mouth. “Come ooon,”

I laughed and handed it to him. “Don’t whine so much, Dickie,” I took another bite of my hotdog, and my stomach growled in appreciation.

“I don’t whine!” he set the drink down between us, looking scandalized at my suggestion.

“’I don’t whine!’” I used the whiniest voice in my repertoire and he flushed, though this time it wasn’t because of the cold nipping at our faces.

All his embarrassment was forgotten when the countdown could be heard from the people surrounding the Gotham harbor, waiting for the fireworks.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” Dick yelled along with the rest of them, and we set our food down on the dock. “Seven! Six!” he gave me an exasperated look when I still wasn’t counting.

“Five! Four!” he grinned at me and we continued together. “Three! Two! One!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Dick sat up on his knees just as the fireworks started and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. I squeaked in surprise and blushed. When he sat back his face was red too. “You were the closest person! And I wanted to do a midnight kiss so don’t be mad!” he held up his hands in defense.

I was dumbfounded. The kiss was perfectly chaste, and very sweet. I knew for a fact that it was Dick’s first, and I was actually honored he’d waste it on me. However, “Dick you totally just made me feel like a pedophile!”

All the tension was drained and he let out one of his trademark laughs, clutching his stomach. He looked positively pleased with himself. “You know you liked it,”

“You are such a brat!” there was poorly masked laughter in my voice and I hooked an arm around his neck and gave him a noogie.

He squeaked and squirmed in my hold. “Artemis!”

“You know you like it,” I mocked, grinning as I lightly shoved him away from me.

“Thanks for not being mad,” he mumbled, glancing at me from under his long eyelashes.

“Like I could ever be mad at a face that pretty,” I shook my head in mock frustration.

He grinned again, and I smiled.

“Now shut up and watch the fireworks,” I picked up my hot dog again, taking another bite while Dick fixed his eyes on the colorful explosions in the sky. I watched his face, the way the fireworks reflected in those beautiful blue eyes like they were glass. I watched the way they widened when the colors changed. The lights hit his face perfectly, highlighting his features, which were slightly sharper then when I’d met him a little over a year ago. The colored lights danced around in his silky black hair. That blindingly gorgeous smile was infectious, and I was smiling into my food.

“Look, it’s the finale!” his eyes flickered to me just long enough to be sure I’d heard him before they gazed skyward again. While he laughed and cheered and nearly shook with excitement, I watched the reflection of the fireworks in those ecstatic blue eyes.

New Year’s Eve was definitely perfect.


	11. Secrets

I’m a closed off person. I know that. I don’t share everything. And even though Dick broke through so many of my walls, there were some that even he wasn’t meant to breach. Ones only Jade was supposed to have the ability to bypass.

Unfortunately the universe didn’t agree with that.

I was sitting on my bed, reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland again. I had just gotten back from a visit with my mother, and dad was packing a bag. He was leaving shortly to work a job for a few days. So I took the opportunity to read.

The knock on my window scared me right out of my skin, and I just barely contained a shriek. When I turned to the window I saw Dick standing on my fire escape with summer appropriate clothes on. It was snowing that night.

I got to my feet and pried the window open long enough for him to climb in before shutting it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, and in shorts and a t-shirt!” I was yelling in hushed tones, and I was quick to dig out a pair of too-small sweat pants for him to throw on. “Put this on too.” I took off my Cheshire hoodie, figuring that my body heat would warm him faster than anything.

I turned away from him so he could change without me unintentionally ogling his toned physique. When the rustling of clothes stopped I turned around just in time to get an arm full of Dick Grayson as he threw himself into my hold.

I felt guilty for chastising him. He never broke the rules about coming to my house unless he had a really good reason. He even had the good sense not to knock on the front door this time. “Whoa, okay, Dickie-bird, what happened?” My voice was softer.

“My new foster brother, Jack, he…he ripped it, he ripped up the picture of me and my parents, the one from the night they died,” he pulled away from me and held out his hand, which had the picture, or the pieces that were left, clutched in his tiny fingers.

Jack had been moved into John and Maggie’s house a week or so after New Year’s.  I’d only met him once in the three weeks he’d been there, but Jason and even Dick had nothing nice to say about the fourteen year old. Apparently he was relocated because he kept getting into bloody fights.

“Oh, Dick, I’m sorry,” he looked at me, and I finally saw how red his eyes were. “Here, we can try to fix it, okay? We’ll, tape it up, good as new,”

“Tape won’t fix it right!” he voice was an octave higher than usual. My heart skipped a beat; I hoped no one could hear him

“Shhh, Dickie it’s okay. Here I have another idea. That computer teacher, the graphic arts guy, he likes us, right? I bet he could scan it onto the computer and piece it back together and print you out a brand new copy, how’s that sound?” I put my hands on his shoulders and he nodded slowly.

“That…that could work, right?”

“Right,” I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Seeing Dick like this always sent me into panic. “It’ll be fine. And then I’ll beat up the new kid for you, okay?”

He sniffled and laughed, though it was almost a sob. I hugged him again and he buried his face in my shoulder. I pressed my hand against his back and rubbed circles into the back of Cheshire’s hoodie while silent sobs shook him. I got the feeling more had happened then simply ripping up that picture. No matter how much it meant to him, Dick wouldn’t normally be this shaken. I really was going to have to kick that Jack kid’s ass. No one made my little bird cry like that and got away with it.

“Missy?” my heart sank. Dad. He was coming towards my end of the hall, his heavy and slightly irregular footsteps were proof of that.

“Dick, get under the bed, now!” my voice was as quiet as it was urgent, and Dick dropped to the floor and crawled under Jade’s old bed. “Stay there until I tell you to come out, close your eyes cover your ears and don’t make a _sound_!” I grabbed his clothes off the floor and shoved them under with him, he took them from me. Of all the nights for Dick to show up emotionally broken and in need of stability, it _had_ to be one when he was home.

I closed the book I had abandoned on my bed and threw it into my dresser drawer before closing it. Just as I did my bedroom door opened. I backed away from the blonde giant that filled the frame.

“Artemis.” The ever present smell of stale whiskey that followed him around was thick and I wrinkled my nose. He got especially drunk the nights before and after each job.

“Dad. What do you want.”

“Just couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my girl.” I refused to break eye contact; maybe if I could stare him down he’d just leave this time, no arguments or altercations necessary. But that was extremely unlikely—it was sort of a ritual of ours, a way for him to blow off steam before he left.

“Don’t delay your plans on my behalf.” My voice was venomous and he smacked me across the face for it. My cheek stung.

“Don’t talk to your father like that Missy. What would your mother say?”

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to play this game with you, dad.” I clenched my fists. Please, just leave. I did not want to do this with Dick in the room. I prayed he had his eyes and ears closed.

“You know, Missy, I don’t appreciate that tone. You’re being a naughty girl, might have to teach you a lesson.” His hand came down on my cheek and my fists shook.

“Dad, not tonight, get. Out.” I yelped and crashed to the floor when he hit me again, this time with a fist. I caught Dick’s wide, terrified eyes before I was yanked off the ground by my hair.

“You’re such a _stupid_ girl. I hear you’ve been getting into fights again at school. You think I wanna hear about that? Do you?” he pulled on my hair and I was on my feet again. I couldn’t hold back the few sharp cries that escaped.

“No, I don’t. But it’s not my fault you pick up the god damned phone!” he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. My bone felt like it was going to snap. I gritted my teeth, something close to a whimper escaping.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then let me _go_!” he tightened his hold on my arm and I let out a pained sound. “Dad-!”

“I don’t want to hear about any more fights, is that understood? Next time, make sure no one sees you.” It wasn’t that he disapproved of the fighting, he was just pissed I got caught.

“Yes!” This needed to end before he found out we weren’t alone in the room. “I understand!”

“Good.” He released me and I took a few steps back reflexively. I could already feel the hand-shaped bruise on my arm and the swelling in my face. He looked me over, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Go take a shower, you look like hell.”

And with that he was gone, the door slamming behind him. My breathing picked up in pace and I walked across my room once or twice to try and calm myself, wiping the blood from my chin. I had bitten my tongue when he knocked me down.

I grabbed a towel and ran into the bathroom to rub my skin raw in the shower, to get the feeling of his hands off of me.

When I came back into my room, I dried quickly and pushed my dresser in front of the main door with the still-broken lock, before pulling on some flannel pants and a long sleeved shirt. Not bothering with anything else I listened for the telltale signs of my father leaving the apartment, and when I heard the click on the front door, I let out a shaky breath.

“You can come out,” I winced at how raw my voice sounded. After a few moments of Dick rustling against the carpet I felt arms around my waist and a face pressed against my back. I took his wrists and untangled myself from his arms. “It’s okay, Dickie.”

“It is _not_ okay!” his voice was as raw as mine, and there were tears streaming down his face. “It’s not okay!”

“Yes it is, everything’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine.” I was rambling and I pulled him into a hug that he returned without hesitation.

“You’re not fine.” His voice was choked.

“Yes I am. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal! It is! He hurt you, Artemis!”

“I’m alive though, aren’t I?” that was the completely wrong thing to say, because he burst into a fresh set of sobs. I ran my fingers through his hair a few times and pressed my cheek against his head. “Ok, that was stupid, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, Dickie,”

“You’re _not_ stupid.” He was adamant about this, probably because this wasn’t the first time he’d heard dad describe me as such.

“Relax…hey, he’s not gonna be home for a few days so do you wanna sleep over tonight? I’ll read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and we can sleep in Cheshire’s bed, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Would that make you feel better?” I was talking to him like a child now, and I mentally kicked myself.

He nodded and followed me to my sister’s bed. “Hold on just a second,” he grabbed my wrist in panic. “I just have to get the book,”

He let me go and waited for me to return to his side. I climbed under the covers with him and leaned back against the headboard. He buried his face into my stomach and locked his arms around me. With the small book in one hand, I slipped the other down the back of Cheshire’s hoodie, rubbing his bare shoulder with my hand as it shuddered every now and then.

I started to read from the beginning, and by the time I began chapter three he had relaxed significantly.

 “Artemis?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” his voice was a shaky as my own breathing.

“I love you too, Dickie-bird.”

My alarm was what woke me the next morning. I opened my eyes to find my vision filled with disheveled black hair. Trying not to wake him, I reached behind me and slapped the top of the clock, effectively shutting off that god awful noise.

I had fallen asleep with Lewis Carroll’s book in my hand, and at some point I had rolled onto my side. Dick was pressed right up against me, his arms firmly around my torso, and a leg thrown haphazardly over my own. I set the book down on the mattress, and slowly removed myself from Dick’s iron grip.

He groaned and rolled right into the place I had just been. I smiled a little and was suddenly reminded of the bruises that were likely on my face. With a wince, I leaned over and tucked the blankets around the little bird, before slipping away and quietly and removing my dresser from in front of my door.

I did a quick sweep of the apartment; just to be sure dad hadn’t come back. When I saw the only other body in the place was the sleeping bird, I exhaled in relief.

I spent an hour straightening up the apartment, throwing bottles into the recycling bin and washing dishes. I folded the blankets and fixed the cushions on our worn couch and swept the floor. It didn’t make much of a difference, but I felt better having Dick over when the place was at least semi-presentable.

I opened the fridge and found a modest supply of food. I smiled bitterly; dad had apparently remembered to go grocery shopping—his idea of a half-hearted apology for the fights that always came before he left. I grabbed a few things and placed a small frying pan on the front right burner of the creaky old stove.

“Artemis!” I heard my name from where I was in the kitchen, making breakfast, eggs for him (I’d never been especially creative in the kitchen) and toast for me. “Artemis?”

“Just a second!” I turned down the heat on the stove and breezed past the counter, into my bedroom where I found Dick, about to run out of the room himself. He jumped when he saw me. “I’m here, I didn’t leave, Dickie-bird, just-“

He was hugging me again. “Don’t _do_ that,” he breathed, pulling away after a moment, eyes getting big. “Your face…”

“Is not as bad as it looks,” I lifted my hand to stop him from saying whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “Ah! Not now, okay? I’m in the middle of making breakfast for us.”

“You...can cook…?”

“Well, nothing fancy, so don’t get your hopes up. But yeah, I have to feed myself don’t I?”

“Oh, yeah I guess that’s true,” his eyes lingered on my cheek.

“Well it is, so come on; you might as well join me in the kitchen.” I took his hand, prying it from his side and lacing our fingers. He relaxed a little bit, his shoulders slumping. He followed me out into the apartment, to the kitchen. He kept himself half behind me, almost like he was hiding.

I raised an eyebrow, “No one’s here, Dick,”

Dick worried his lower lip with his teeth, “I know, I’m just…jumpy, I guess.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

He squeezed my hand in response. “So…what’re you making?”

“Eggs and toast,” I gave an amused smile. “Like I said, nothing too fancy.”

I released Dick’s hand and he watched me with slight panic as I left him alone, even if I was only on the other side of the counter.

Dick relaxed, eventually. While we ate, his eyes traveled around the apartment again, like he was expecting something to have changed. When he realized nothing had, he turned his focus back to my less than impressive cooking.

“Artemis,” I looked up from my toast. “Why…why is he like that?”

“If you think about it too much it’ll just seem worse than it is, baby bird,” I answered softly. He focused back on his food.

We only spent another hour there before I insisted we leave. Dick grabbed his forgotten clothes and the torn picture of his family and we walked back to his foster home. The streets had been plowed, and most of the sidewalks had been shoveled so we didn’t have too rough a time. When we actually got to the house, however, Dick’s hand found mine again and gripped it tightly.

“Maggie’s gonna kill me…John’s gonna kill me too… _Jason’s_ gonna be pissed I left him alone with Jack...” I ran my thumb over the back of his hand and rang the bell. The door was answered almost immediately by Jason who promptly kicked Dick in the shin. “OW!”

“Where the heck did you go you jerk!” I raised my eyebrow at the lack of curse words in the statement.

“To Artemis’ house!” Dick’s voice was a little cracked, and he lifted his leg to rub his free hand on his shin.

Jason looked at me. “What happened to your _face_?” the bird and I both winced. “MAGGIE!”

The boys’ foster parents rushed to the door and quickly swept us through the frame. We were assaulted with angry questions—more Dick than me but I felt his pain—about our whereabouts and what the hell we were thinking scaring them like that.

“I’m sorry!” Dick apologized profusely earning him a light shake from Maggie. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“You know you’re not supposed to leave the house without letting us know!” John interjected, causing Dick’s eyes to drop to his feet.

“Um…” All eyes turned to me. “He was with me, all night. Jack was giving him a hard time, and tore this up,” I pulled the picture from the pocket of Cheshire’s hoodie and Dick didn’t move to protest. “So he came over and…well he’s okay, I promise.”

Maggie took the picture from me, eyes narrowing at the realization of what it was. “That boy…”

Jason was no doubt smirking behind the hand over his face. Dick looked a little frightened.

“You, Richard are grounded.” She handed him the pieces of his family portrait. “Artemis, you can still see him, as I think you’re the only reason he stays in line to begin with and you keep me sane amongst all the boys.” She sighed tiredly and patted my shoulder.

“Thank you, Miss Maggie,”

“Except only here, he’s not to leave this house except for school and there will be no television or phones or anything else!” she leveled him with a glare and he avoided her eyes. “As for Jack…” she muttered, turning from us and storming up the stairs.

John gave Dick a disappointed—if not angry—look, before he turned to follow his wife and provide her with backup against their newest foster son.

Jason was soon in front of us again. “So awesome, you just got Jack’s butt in the doghouse,” he grinned devilishly.

The curiosity got to me. “You’re being so tame today, Jay, what happened to that colorful vocabulary?” he shut his mouth and turned away, flushing a bright red.

Dick snorted. “Maggie spanked him.” Jason shot a mortified glare at the older boy. “Hey, she warned you dozens of times.”

“Shut up!” he hissed, little hands balling into fists. I laughed a little into the back of my hand and Jason’s blush darkened. “It’s not funny!” he squeaked.

“It’s definitely funny,” I grinned at him and he ground his teeth together.

We all quieted when we heard Maggie—and a little bit of John—chastising the new recruit. “Hope he never sees the light of day again.”

“Just be glad he doesn’t share a room with _us_.” Dick mumbled. “Otherwise this grounding thing would be so much worse, though I’m still trapped here with him.”

“ _You_? Usually ya just leave me here with the son of a b-…gun…”

“Oh, nice save,” I smirked at him.

“So, _what_ happened to your face?” Kid didn’t miss a beat.

Dick’s face contorted into one of extreme discomfort, he almost looked like he’d be sick. I let go of his hand and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, leading him to the couch. Jason followed, and out of respect for his brother’s grounding, shut off the TV.

“Why do you look like yer gonna ralph? Cause if you are I don’t want it to be on _me_.” Jason crossed his arms, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table in front of us. “’Sides, it’s not like you’re the one who looks like a punching bag.”

Dick hugged his knees to his chest, absently rubbing the shin Jason had kicked.

“It’s nothing big, Jason just another fight.” Unfortunately Jason was smarter than that, and ignored my answer.

“With your dad?” At that Dick buried his face in his arms. I sighed. “I’m definitely right. Ya spend too much time out, and here. And whenever Maggie asks about your parents you don’t answer. Not really. Plus you’re skinny like I was when no one fed me.”

“First, I do eat. Second, you’re an extremely observant little brat.”

“My mom was a junkie, died cause of her needles and I dunno what happened to my dad but he was a real jack-…jerk…” he frowned, looking like he felt incomplete without his curses. “I used ta boost tires and sell ‘em to this auto guy for food. Didn’t get much. “

I hadn’t known much about Jason’s history before then. Only that he was put in the system just before Dick came to Gotham, and that this was his first foster home. Plus his extensive knowledge of swears, his obsession with weapons and that blinding rage. Frankly I’d never given it much thought, and honestly I never would have asked.

However Jason being a street rat explained a lot, his language, his aggression, his anger, and especially his pickpocketing talents. Even his undying loyalty to Dick, to a certain degree, could be because of his background. When a kid like Jason was on the streets, and he made a friend, he kept that friendship going. You never knew when you’d need an ally.

He was never book smart from what I gathered, Dick said he was a below average student, but always chalked it up to him not applying himself. That was probably true. Kids like Jason had no value for book smarts. He would be more likely to hock a text book than read it, because what good was knowing the circumference of the sun if you were going to starve anyway?

I wasn’t a street kid. I had a place to live, but I was on my own enough of the time I knew how it worked. And suddenly I felt a hell of a lot more respect for the ten year old.

“I’m sorry,” it was a hollow apology, because I couldn’t imagine his parents were much good to him. He ignored it.

“So he hits you?” It was strange seeing him this serious without him being angry at the same time. I didn’t answer and he nodded. “So what’s up with him?” he jabbed his thumb in Dick’s direction.

I turned to look at the little bird sitting next to me. He still had his face buried in his arms and his legs drawn up to his chest. His fingers were digging into his biceps and his knuckles were white. I put my hands on his shoulders and he lifted his head just enough to peek out at me. His eyes were wet. “Dickie,” I rubbed his back with one hand and his likely bruised shin with the other. “Dickie-bird, don’t cry again,”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” Jason nudged him with his sock covered foot. Dick gave him a halfhearted glare. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“I was _there_ I saw-“ he stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and let one of his legs drop away from his chest, wrapping his arms around the other.

We all looked to see Jack—and a rather agitated Maggie, enter the living room. “Well?” she gave him an angry look and Jack ground his teeth.

“ _Sorry_.” He spat at Dick, who shrunk a little and unconsciously pressed his side against me.

“Jack O’Keery!”

“ _What_?” he threw his arms out to the sides and growled at Maggie, who crossed her arms. “Fine, _Dick_ , I’m sorry I ripped up your picture. Sorry I shoved you into a wall. Happy?” he turned his gaze back to Maggie with the last word.

“No. But it’ll do for now.” She pointed. “Now get your shoes on! You’re coming grocery shopping with me.” Jack stomped away, grumbling, and I found it hard to believe he was my age.

“Thanks, Maggie…” The corners of Dick’s mouth twitched and he rested his cheek against his knee.

“Artemis, please keep these two in line. John and I are taking the other three out for a while, whether they like it or not.” She muttered the last part as John dragged the other two down the stairs by their arms.

I saluted the woman. “Aye aye, captain.”

“I’ll pay you for your troubles, too, how much would you like?”

“Wha-?”

“We don’t need a babysitter!” Jason sounded absolutely insulted, and his face was red again. Dick actually laughed a little.

“Maybe _I_ don’t…” he muttered, Jason shot him a look.

“No, no, you don’t, I don’t want your money, Miss Maggie. Trust me you don’t have to bribe me to hang out with them,” Words couldn’t describe how little I wanted her money. She did plenty for me as it was.

“Well then you’re eating dinner with us tonight.” She declared.

“Oh, uh…sure, thank you,” I smiled a little, and she returned it. That I could live with.

“Come on boys!” she hollered, earning several groans. There were a couple of slapping noises, which were probably John hitting Seth and Sam upside their heads.

As soon as the door closed, Jason turned back to Dick. “ _Anyway_. What the fuck were you saying?” apparently the no swearing streak ended when Maggie, John and all possible tattle-tales have left the building

“Nothing.” I gave Jason a look. We needed to drop the subject, it was bothering Dick enough as it was and it wasn’t really my personal favorite thing to talk about.

“Not nothing,” Dick leaned back into the couch and crossed his arms again, while simultaneously hunching his shoulders. “I saw it. I _saw_ him hit you.” He looked at me, his eyes shining yet again.

“Dickie-bird…”

“No, don’t say it’s ‘fine’ because it’s not fine. It’s never going to _be_ fine. How could he touch you like that?” his voice cracked.

“He did it with you _there_?” the red head frowned.

“He didn’t know. She made me hide under the bed.”  He answered, looking guilty. “I let it happen.”

“Yeah well ya have no place getting into it with the guy anyway.” The pickpocket stated firmly.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t get into it?! I should have done something!” he sat up again, jaw clenched and hands fisted around the ends of Cheshire’s sleeves.

“Dick it’s not your problem. You don’t get in the middle of shit like that. It’s _her_ dad let _her_ deal with it.” Jason’s words only made Dick angrier.

“That’s crap!”

“No, it’s not.” I sighed, and he looked at me.

“He wouldn’t have stopped cause of you. Prolly woulda just threatened you or hit you too. Or hit her _more_ cause she told on him.” This time the ginger’s words seemed to hit home. Dick made a choked noise and his tears fell when he blinked, only to be furiously scrubbed away with Cheshire’s sleeve.

“That’s not fair!”

“Yeah well life’s not fair, or we’d be a couple a rich kids instead living with John and Maggie and a bunch of jackasses.” Jason crossed his arms. “Be glad you got it this good, Dick. Not all of us’re as lucky as you.”

“What does that even mean?” he asked quietly, looking oddly younger and more naïve than the street-wise kid sitting across from us.

“Means not everyone has parents who love ‘em, or are even nice to ‘em or want ‘em around.” He narrowed his pale green eyes. “Means you were lucky, but ya shouldn’t test it by throwin’ yourself into something you don’t understand.”

Dick choked on another sob and a moment later his face was buried in my shoulder. “Jay you don’t have to be such a brat.” I breathed, both sorry Dick was crying again and angry at Jason for pushing so much that it _made_ him cry.

“What, you _want_ him trying to play superhero?” his face was accusing.

“No, Jason. I don’t.” I narrowed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my little bird.

Guilt flitted across the ginger’s expression when Dick’s shoulders shook. “Sorry, Dick…” he mumbled, moving to sit on his brother’s other side. He leaned against him, cheek pressed against Dick’s shoulder blade.

“You can’t go home,” Dick whispered after several minutes spent calming down again and sipping on a glass of orange juice provided by Jason. At that point the younger boy was sitting on his other side, sandwiching Dick between the two of us.

“It’s my house, Dickie-bird. And seriously, I’m used to it. I can take a hit, I’m a big girl and besides, I need to be around in case something happens and mom needs me.”

“She an addict?” Luckily that was one thing the pickpocket and I didn’t have in common.

“No, she’s got MS.” Jason twisted his face into a confused expression. “It’s a disease that fucks you up pretty bad. Point is I can’t leave.”

“Why not! She doesn’t even live with you! She doesn’t do anything about him!” his fingers tightened around his glass.

“Dick, I love my mom.” He closed his mouth at that. “I know she doesn’t live at home anymore, but she already lost Cheshire, and she’d be broken-hearted if I ran away,” at least, I liked to think she would be. But honestly, I didn’t know her well enough anymore to _really_ know.

“Who’s Cheshire?” Jason asked.

“My sister, Jade. I called her Cheshire.” I spared the ginger a glance before turning back to Dick. “I can’t abandon her. Dad loves her but he can’t always be around when she needs him, I have to be there to answer if she or her doctors call.” He looked furious that I’d use my dad as a reason to stay when he gave all the reasons in the world for me to leave. “It’s complicated.”

“Seems pretty cut and dry to me.”

“It’s not. I love my mom, Dick. She does care about me. She just doesn’t see my dad for what he is and I don’t really want her to. He’s good to her, she needs that and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“He’s not good to you!”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yes it is and you can’t go back there!”

“Dick, stop.” Ever the voice of harsh reason that day, Jason stepped in again. “It’s not that easy.”

Dick’s eyes flickered back and forth between us, looking like he’d been cornered. He bit his lip and ran his thumbs along the edge of his glass. “What if we told someone?”

“They’d put her in the system.” Jason was exasperated. To him it was simple, my problems were mine and therefore I needed to deal with them myself. He couldn’t see why Dick wanted so desperately to involve himself.

“She could live here!”

“They’d send me away. I wouldn’t get to pick, Dickie. And that’s assuming dad didn’t wring my neck first, in which case he’d run and mom’d be all alone with two dead daughters and no husband.”

“What if your mom divorced him?”

“He’d get custody of me. He’s the bread winner, and mom’s in a care center.” Granted Dad’s money probably wasn’t clean, for all I knew it was blood money or something. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

“But statistically the mother usually-”

“Mom’s not fit to care for any kids. She can’t even care for herself. She wouldn’t win.” I’d looked into it once on a school computer.

“There has to be _something_ we can do,” he sipped the last of his juice and set the glass on the table. “I can’t let you stay there like that…”

“Sure you can. She was always hurt before and it never bothered you.” Oh, Jason. Why?

Dick’s eyes widened and then narrowed at the accusation. “I did too care!”

“Not really.” I glared at the red-head and he shrugged.

“Yes! I just didn’t think it was going home that was the problem I just thought it was those jerks who live in her building or the guys who rag on us at school! Not her dad!”

“’That makes a difference?” Jason snorted. “A black eye is a black eye no matter who gives it to ya.”

“Enough, guys. Seriously.” They both looked at me. “I’m fine, Dickie. I can live with it. I don’t enjoy it but I’ll live. I love my mom too much to leave. I know that doesn’t make sense to you but that’s just the way it is. And Jason, stop antagonizing him!”

He got that look on his face again, like he didn’t know what the word meant but didn’t want to ask for fear of sounding stupid.

“Stop starting arguments when you know they’ll end in tears.” I rephrased and he glared. “Please.” His face softened and the three of us sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Dick mumbled, standing and taking off Cheshire’s hoodie in the process. “Do you…um…mind if I wear this again?” he held the sweatshirt to his chest.

“Why? It’s huge on you,”

“Well…it smells like you, so…” he mumbled and Jason snorted.

I elbowed the little brat. “Ow!”

“Yeah you can wear it again.” Dick smiled a little at that and disappeared up the stairs, taking his clothes from last night and his torn up picture with him.

Another moment passed and I turned to Jason. “So did you cry?”

“What?” he blinked, looking suspicious.

“When Maggie put you over her knee,” I smirked and his face lit up again.

“NO! And she didn’t-… I wasn’t-…shut up!”


	12. Of Love and Sharp Things

Valentine’s Day was always a big thing at Gotham North Middle School. It was even bigger at the High School because of the ‘Cupid Dance’ or the ‘Sweetheart Dance’ or whatever they were calling it. The fourteenth was on a Friday that year, so the dance was actually on the holiday it was supposed to celebrate.

Everyone was looking for a date, so the cafeteria was abuzz all week with the gossip of who asked who and who said no and who was going alone. It was extremely annoying. Personally I didn’t see the point. I sighed while a girl at the table next to us squealed and jumped the boy who was now her date. I sipped my milk.

“You know they gave all the food and stuff weird names because of the holiday, kinda like on Halloween, they had the ‘ghostly milk’, well now it’s ‘love milk’,” Dick turned over the unopened half pint in his hand, showing me the pink heart shaped sticker that had been slapped on it. It bothered me that it was crooked. But the fact that it actually said ‘love milk’ cracked me up.

I laughed for a good five minutes when I heard that. “Oh my god what were they thinking?”

“What?” he looked down at the sticker and then back to me, his face was confused.

“You…you really don’t get it?” I raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Get what? Love milk?” I snorted and covered my poorly contained grin with my hand. “What! What’s so bad about ‘love milk’?”

I folded my arms on the table and buried my face, shoulders shaking with the force of my laughter. When I raised my head again Dick was blushing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh Dickie-bird,” I put my hand over his, stifling my giggles. “You’re so innocent,”

“Why?” he looked at the sticker and then back at me again. “What’s the joke? Explain it to me,”

I bit my lip and barely managed to contain my laugh. “Um…how about you ask Jay, he probably gets it,” Little lecher would get it in a heartbeat. I hoped the elementary school had stickered their milks too, because I could just imagine Jason corrupting the minds of his fellow fifth graders.

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I will not be responsible for ruining your innocence.” I held up my hand like I was making a vow and he gave me a pout.

“Fine, then I won’t share my sweetheart cookies.” He bit into the point on the heart shaped cookie.

“Maybe you can dip them in your love milk,” I cracked up again, and lost my breath laughing at my own joke.

“What!” he squeaked, now just plain frustrated. I laughed harder.

“I’ll be right back,” I wiped the tears from my eyes and stood, stifling the remainder of my laughs. “I forgot a spork,” I did my very best to collect myself while I fetched the largely useless plastic utensil. It took a lot of effort but I did finally calm down. At least until I turned around and found one of Dick’s antagonists standing next to his seat, hand planted firmly on the table next to the bird’s tray.

Dick was glaring up at him, and I could see his hands fisted in his lap. I gripped the spork in my right hand and stormed back over to the table, all humor gone.

“What the hell do you want Neanderthal?” I spat, tossing the spork onto the table and planting my hands on my hips.

The running back looked up at me, clearly amused with _something_. “Just asking Dickhead here if you two were going to the dance together,”

“No, we’re not going together, or at all. Now back off.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Aww, come on now Missy. I was just asking cause I wondered if you’d go with _me_.”

“Why so you can re-enact _Carrie_?” I grinned when Dick snorted. He didn’t like it much, but of all the movies he’d made me watch that was one of my favorites. Not that the acting or story were really all that great, but I could relate to feeling like a freak and wanting to kill everyone I knew.

The running back blinked, looking terribly confused for a moment but then focused a glare on Dick who stopped laughing immediately. “Something funny?” he slapped the acrobat upside the head, and Dick winced. “Well?” he hit him again.

“Do _not_ touch him.” I ground out, hoping he’d listen and save us the inevitable fight.

“Or what.” He smacked Dick again, and the younger boy stood only to be pushed back down into his chair.

“Or I’ll break your thick skull _that’s_ what.” My teeth were starting to hurt from the clench in my jaw.

“Oh really,” he smirked, there were a couple laughs and I realized we’d drawn a bit of a crowd. Again.

“Artemis, don’t.” Dick had unfortunately seen what my dad thought of my fighting in school (or rather fighting where I’d get caught) so he shook his head frantically when I moved to stand in front of the three-times-my-size running back. The funniest thing about that was that he probably didn’t think I’d get hurt fighting the Neanderthal. He was just worried about the consequences at home.

It stroked my ego in a twisted sort of way.

“Yeah, Artemis, you should probably listen to the little circus freak.” Dick winced at that, and I found myself balling my hands into fists again.

“No, _you_ should probably have listened to me.”

Technically I should have been suspended, maybe expelled. Usually my fights were with girls, and punching a cheerleader or just a bitch in the jaw is met with serious repercussions. But the nice thing about Neanderthals is their unwillingness to admit that their swollen nose and bloody mouth were from getting hit by a bony freshman whose only friend in the world is the ‘circus freak’. That and the fact that they refused to admit to having been punched out by a girl. So I didn’t get in trouble, why would I since all that happened was that he ‘walked into a door’?

Jason found this to be hilarious. “You busted his nose? Hahahaha.”

Dick didn’t agree. “You’re lucky he didn’t turn you in!”

“Think of it this way, he won’t be after you anymore,” I rubbed my hands together and blew on them. I could still see my breath.

“Yeah well if you get suspended he’ll be after me even more so-”

“So she’ll beat him up worse!” Jason grinned, throwing his arms up in the air. Dick glared at the ginger where he was perched on the other side of the carousel.

Jack had been giving the youngest two foster brothers a hard time since he’d arrived. After the incident with Dick’s picture (which we’d gotten a new copy of, thanks to that computer teacher’s handy work) Jack had started getting more physical. He actually started leaving bruises on Jason, and while the kid could take it, Dick— and even I— figured it’d be best to spend as little time around Jack as possible.

So, after school that day we’d walked past the elementary school to retrieve the little thief. It only took about five minutes before he had Jade’s switchblade, _again_ and was running his thumb over the hilt, blade unexposed.

“I don’t _want_ her to beat him up any worse!” Dick threw his own hands in the air before bringing them down to pull his green hat down over his ears, which were a little red from the cold. “I wish you wouldn’t get into fights, _especially_ over me,”

Although me and Jason had gotten Dick to abandon the idea of removing either myself or my father from my apartment, and he’d stopped begging me not to go home, he was still trying his damnedest to protect me. Albeit through indirect means like keeping me out of trouble in school or keeping me over at his place or out late at every opportunity. That was why he’d spent every available minute since lunch panicking and worrying that the Neanderthal would change his ‘I walked into a door’ story to ‘Artemis Crock punched me out for picking on her little friend’.

“Dickie, you’re gonna have to deal with the fact that I’m just an aggressive person and that I’m not gonna take that kind of crap.” I rubbed my arms for warmth and drew my denim clad legs up to my chest.

“Well then stop doing that!” he was about pleading with me.

“Grayson get _over_ it,” Jason sighed in exasperation, eyes focused on the now open switchblade.

“Shut up Jay.”

“Oh, Jason, did you guys have those stickers on your milk in the cafeteria?”

Suddenly Jason was laughing again. “’Love milk’! Hahahaha!” It was for jokes like this I was glad this vulgar little brat was my friend.

“What does that mean?!” Dick threw his arms out in frustration.

“What, you don’t get it?” Jason closed the blade and started to run his thumb over the hilt again. Dick sighed and looked away. “He really doesn’t get it?” Jason turned to me, looking dumbfounded.

“He really doesn’t,” I grinned and Dick flushed when Jason started laughing again. “I didn’t wanna ruin his innocence,”

“Someone just tell me!” his voice cracked and my laughs turned to snickers.

“I got this, I got nooo problem corrupting him.” Jason stood and walked over to Dick’s side, squatting next to him and cupping his free hand around his mouth. His jaw started to move as he whispered the answer to Dick’s question. When the red-head pulled back Dick was blushing and he was grinning widely.

“That is _so_ not funny. Completely larious!” his expression was scandalized and Jason laughed again, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

“’Larious’?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Opposite of ‘hilarious’! Meaning not funny at all!”

“ _I_ think it’s funny,” Jason moved back over to his spot on the carousel, completing our triangle again.

“Of course you do you little pervert!”

“You’re just mad you didn’t get it right away.” The switchblade was open again and Jason breathed on it, creating a fog on the metal. He used the end of his sleeve to polish the four inches of steel.

“I think he might be right, Dickie-bird,” I smiled at his betrayed look. “Chill out,”

“I’d rather stay warm, thank you.” Dick pouted and crossed his arms on his knees.

“Then c’mere cause I’m freezing.” Without hesitation the acrobat crawled over to me, snuggling into my side and resting his cheek against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back, both to warm my hands and to warm him. We shivered simultaneously.

“We could just go back to the house ya know.” Jason rolled his eyes at us. “Unless you guys jus’ want an excuse to _snuggle_.” He wrinkled his nose.

“C’mon Jay, join the huuug!” Dick held out an arm to his foster brother and waved him over. He was grinning again, now that he was the one doing the teasing and Jason and I weren’t ganging up on him anymore.

“ _Fuck_ no.” he didn’t even hesitate in his rejection.

“Hoodie,” Dick used a mock warning tone, and Jason looked up at him, blade still being rubbed against his sleeve. “It’s waaarm,”

“Not warm enough for me to _cuddle_ with you, Dick. Or _her_.” He pointed the blade in our direction to emphasize his point. “I’m _not_ havin’ a threesome with you guys.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket Jay.” I smirked at him, planting my chin in top of Dick’s green beanie.

Jason glared at me, mild jealousy sparking in his eyes. If not for his pride—and good god did he have a lot of that—he would’ve pushed me away and huddled up with Dick himself. Half the things he did, however misguided, were to please his favorite foster brother. He’d just never say out loud how much Dick meant to him. I doubted he’d ever admit it of his own free will, but it was plenty obvious to me, and probably everyone else. Even Dick was aware of Jason’s hero-worship to a degree, but until the red head showed physical affection Dick would probably never register just how important he was to the little pickpocket.

“Please? You know you’re cold,” the little bird stated knowingly.

“Not _that_ cold. Unless I get hypo…hypo…” he twisted his mouth, trying to remember the word.

“Hypothermia?”

“Yeah! That!” Jason pointed Jade’s knife at Dick when he offered up the word. “Unless I get _that_ I’m _not_ joining your fucking group hug or whatever.” He waved the blade in the air while he spoke, from a distance it probably looked like he was threatening us instead of just gesticulating.

“Then gimme back my switchblade!” I held out my hand and he closed the blade and held it to his chest protectively.

“No!”

“Hoodie, you know you have a pocketknife right? Remember you got it for Christmas?” Dick reminded, sounding like he’d probably rolled his eyes while he spoke.

“Yeah, except Maggie had to lock it up with all the kitchen knives cause of Jack!”

“She locked up all the knives?” I blinked looking down at the little bird in my arms.

“Yeah. He pulled one on Sam.”

“He _what_?”

“Jackass was threatening Seth, and Sam doesn’t like people goin’ after his little brother so Sam shoved him and Jack whipped out a kitchen knife.” Jason opened the switchblade again for emphasis.

“That kid should seriously be in Arkham or something. That’s _seriously_ dangerous.” I narrowed my eyes.

“He didn’t jab at him or anything he was just tryin’ ta freak him out.” He closed the blade again. “Besides, Michael used to try ta burn us with cigarettes, almost did a couple times but he never got moved. S’cause he didn’t actually wanna hurt us, just scare us, I guess. Plus John ‘nd Maggie’re too nice to ditch him or Jack. Michael turned out okay, sooo Jack’ll prolly get over himself.”

“Still.”

“Well he’s kind of on probation anyway, I heard the social worker say that if John and Maggie have to report him for being too violent he’s going to a group home or juvi or something.” Dick sighed. He and Jason exchanged looks. Dick took my wrist and pushed my sleeve up a little so he could read my watch. “Four-thirty, we should head back to the house.”

“ _Finally_.” Jason stood and shoved his hands and the knife into his pockets. He didn’t give it back to me until we were on the front stoop of their house.


	13. The Secret of the Second Bathroom

March 19th was a long day. It was the day before Dick’s thirteenth birthday. My own had come and gone in late January, and he’d made me a strange kind of cake. He’d said his mother taught him, so I was twice as honored by his gift. It didn’t hurt things that it was delicious. Jason had even signed the card Dick made—though it didn’t sound like he had much of a choice once the bird got the idea.

Even though Jason hadn’t cared about my birthday or wanted to even sign the card, he and I both agreed that Dick needed something special for his. So the night before, when I’d been about to leave, he asked me to come get him in the morning and take him to find Dick a present. He’d saved up fifteen dollars for the occasion, and together we had thirty-five.

So I met him bright and early on the front stoop, where he told me he’d lied to Dick and said that I was taking him out to look at a knife he really wanted. Dick apparently believed this, and it was a relief Jason had been the one to spin the story. I was a horrible liar and would’ve been discovered immediately. Lucky for us Dick didn’t really seem to expect us to remember his birthday, so it didn’t cross his brilliant mind we were going to buy him presents.

Unfortunately, everything we wanted to buy for the little bird was seriously out of our price range, and Jay was cursing up a storm after we’d left the third store along Amusement Mile. “Fucking stupid! This is _so_ fucking stupid! You drag me out here ta buy Dick a present or what _ever_ and then we can’t afford a fucking thing? Bullshit!”

I chose not to remind him this was his bright idea. “You know he’ll appreciate anything, so it doesn’t have to be expensive anyway. We could make him a macaroni necklace and he’d _still_ get all choked up about it.”

“I am _not_ makin’ a fuckin’ macaroni necklace. _That_ is the dumbest thing I’ve _ever_ heard.” He shot me a glare.

“Me either but I’m just saying, we should try to find something cheaper, hell we could just buy him a card,” That wasn’t gonna happen, no way was I gonna be _that_ person. Jason must’ve known I wasn’t being serious because his only response was to roll his pale green eyes. “What about food?”

“Nah. We should just get him a circus thing.”

I raised my eyebrow and gave him an incredulous look. “Really? A _circus_ thing? Cause he hasn’t seen enough of that in his life or anything.”

“I didn’t say it was a fucking _good_ idea!” his cheeks turned red.

“How about a new sweatshirt…? Or something?” We could afford that, right?

“Lame.” The pickpocket huffed and we were quiet for a couple of minutes.

“This is waaay fucking harder than it needs to be.”

“No shit. Why’s he so hard to shop for when he likes every god damned thing!” he threw his arms up in the air and stopped walking to focus his frustration on the window of the bookstore in front of him. “Why can’t this be easier?!”

“I think I have an idea, actually.” I grinned and took Jason by the front of his jacket, dragging him inside the bookstore. He protested but didn’t fight me.

“You’re kidding right? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.” Jason turned the book over in his hands, calloused fingers feeling the edges of the hard cover. “This is something _you’d_ like.”

“Hey, he likes it too. He’s had me read it to him twice.”

“Cause _you_ like it.” He opened it and flipped through the pictures. “Besides, it’s got a pink binding and a _bunny_ on it.”

“It’s the White Rabbit! It’s a well-known symbol of the story!” I crossed my arms defensively.

“Besides, this’d _obviously_ be from you, which isn’t fair. I’m supposed to get him something too.” He frowned, looking genuinely disappointed by his inability to find something for his foster brother.

“Hey, we’ll find something.” He scoffed at me and shoved the book into my hands to go roam the store, standing on his toes to see some of the higher shelves. I held onto the book and followed him close enough to keep him in my line of sight without getting close enough to illicit a fit of rage.

The red head eventually found himself looking at array of picture frames, taking down the ones that caught his interest and tracing their edges with his fingers like a blind man would. He brought one of them to me and bit his lip, looking up at me and presenting his find. “Oh, Jay,”

“For his parents, that picture Jack ripped up, I know it’s circus-ish and all that bullshit but it works, right?” the frame was wooden, and cut into the shape of a circus tent. It was painted red, with white stripes drawn onto it. There was a gold rope painted on either side, like the curtains were being tied open to reveal the picture inside. Across the top there was a white banner, with ‘The Best Show on Earth!’ written in stylized black lettering.

“That’s perfect,” I traced the lettering. “We could even paint over the words, write ‘The Flying Graysons’ instead,”

Jason grinned, clearly proud of his find, and took it back from me. “Maggie has paint, and wrapping paper, and this is _way_ better than a dumbass book.”

“It’s _not_ a dumb book.” I growled. “But you’re right, that is a better present.”

He smirked at me like the little devil he was, and I rolled my eyes.

After I put the Lewis Carroll novel back on the shelf, we bought the frame. We had a few dollars left so we bought a couple of small sodas off a street vendor before we started our walk back to the house. We were trying to figure out our next plan, which was how to get the frame repainted and wrapped without Dick knowing about it, and how to steal the photo without him having a heart attack about it being missing.

When we got back to the house, we made sure to talk about how awesome the knife was, and how it sucked that we had to be eighteen to buy it. Jason even stuck in a bitter comment about how he’d have to lock it up anyway because of Jack, just for the sake of authenticity.

When we showed our gift to Maggie, and asked her permission to use her paint, she was happy to help our cause, covertly telling us where said paint was stashed. “Richard! Come help me make dinner!” she was also happy to be our distraction.

“But I wanted to hang out with Artemis!” he whined, pouting at the woman. I felt a swell of warmth at the idea that he might’ve been jealous I spent the day with Jason instead of him. There was something intoxicating about being someone’s best friend.

“Richard Grayson, don’t start whining.” He sighed at the reprimand and sulked after her to the kitchen, while Jason and I made our escape.

The paint was in Maggie and John’s room, so when we were sure the older three boys weren’t looking we slipped into the master suite and shut the door. It looked like Jason, despite living there for almost two years, had never been in that room. He was looking at everything like he’d never seen it before, and was absolutely flabbergasted to find there was a second bathroom in the house.

“They make five of us share one when there’s one in here?!” he proceeded to look through all the drawers and cabinets in the small bathroom, eyes wide. “No wonder I never see them use it! Those jerks!”

I snorted at how his language was suddenly tame again now that we were in the house, and pulled the paints out of Maggie’s bedside table drawer. They were nothing spectacular, just small tubes of acrylic colors and a couple of tiny brushes, but I wasn’t going to complain. I sat down on the floor—no _way_ was I risking getting paint on that bedspread—and started to cover up the black lettering.

“We have to share _one_ bathroom!” he stomped over to me, and threw his arms in the air. “ONE! For FIVE people!”

“Uh-huh.” I bit my lip in concentration.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like! I mean I’m not complainin’ cause we’ve got hot water at least, which beats my old place, but still! And it’s all guys! I dunno about _girls_ , but guys _suck_ to share a bathroom with, it _always_ smells.”

“I bet it does, Jay.” I looked up. “Grab me a tissue would you?” I pointed to the box on the nightstand behind him.

He blinked, and turned around to fetch it. “It’s _gross_. Seriously. And one time, I had to _clean it_.” He handed me the tissue.

“Why’s that?” I wiped the white paint from the brush and leaned back on my hands, the frame in my lap.

“Because! Because I…well…” he frowned and looked away. “S’none of yer business anyway.”

I smirked. “Cause you were cussing or cause you stole something,” he flushed. “Which is it?” Jason was an excellent liar, a great thief and he had great instincts—were he disciplined; he had the potential to become either an amazing cop, or a really viscous criminal. But when he was embarrassed? I could read him like a book. He’d probably grow out of it, but while the trait was there I was fully amused by it.

“Cussing…”

“Oh, Jay, you never learn, do you?” I shook my head.

“I’ve been good!” he spat, fisting his little hands.

“Only when Maggie and John are within earshot,”

“Whatever, my _real_ parents never cared.” He crossed his arms and looked away. I rolled my eyes.

It took us another half hour to get the frame painted to our liking and wrapped—without the newly repaired photo inside; we figured he could put it in there himself. We hid it under Jason’s bed before we went down and ate dinner, where Dick questioned us about why we abandoned him all day.

“Cause you woulda thought that it was _boring_ that’s why.” Jason snapped, earning a frown from Dick. “We were looking a knife, and you don’t like those, me’n Artemis do.”

“I still would’ve gone,” he looked slightly hurt and my stomach twisted into guilty knots.

“I’ll make it up to you, Dickie-bird, we can watch one of your movies tonight,” he beamed at the idea and I grinned, glad it was so easy to lighten his mood.

“Count me out.” Jason muttered, devouring the food on his plate. He always ate fast, so he could get seconds before the other boys. A side effect of starving for most of his life—it was a habit we had in common.

“That sounds good,”

Dick was especially snuggly that night. I leaned into the corner of the wrap around and he lied against me, his body between my legs and head tucked under my chin. He was wearing Cheshire’s hoodie again. He’d been blushing when he asked to wear the sweatshirt I’d had on all day, saying he liked the way it smelled. It was flattering and extremely endearing that he wanted to wear my clothes because they smelled like me, and he was doing it more and more often. It would’ve been stupid to say out loud, but it made me feel special.

I slid my hand down the back of Cheshire’s hoodie to rub his bare shoulder and he gave a content sigh. His skin was hot against my hand and baby soft. It always seemed to relax him when I did this, and within a couple of minutes he had all but melted in my arms.

“Y’keep doin’ that I’mma fall asleep…” he mumbled, nuzzling my throat.

“You know you like it,” I whispered, using a sing-song tone. He whined. “You can sleep if you want; I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Promise?” he sounded groggy, and was probably fighting to keep those pretty blue eyes open.

“I promise.” He lifted his head to kiss my cheek and I felt my face heat up. I didn’t speak again until I felt his breath against my collar bone and his cheek against my skin. “Goodnight Dickie-bird.”

“Good night, Artemis.”

I pulled the blanket we were sharing up to his chin with the hand that wasn’t still on his bare shoulder. I tangled my fingers in his silky hair and shifted the position of my legs a little to get more comfortable. My eyelids slid closed, I wasn’t particularly concerned with the movie at that point, and I contented myself with breathing in his scent.


	14. Sappy Letters

When I heard several alarms going off the next morning, I woke him up as gently as I could. I would’ve preferred to let him sleep but unfortunately we had school that day. When he finally opened his eyes, and lifted his head off of my chest to look at me, I kissed his forehead. “Happy birthday Dickie-bird,”

He gave a shy smile. “Thanks,”

I was the first but not the last person to wish him a happy birthday before we had to leave for school. Even Sam and Seth said something, after hearing Maggie mention it. Jack was forced into giving the sentiment, but that hardly mattered since Dick appreciated it all the same.

Jason even gave him a hug, albeit a very brief one.

True to form, our day at school was unpleasant, though fortunately it wasn’t unbearable. The effect that came with punching the Neanderthal’s nose Valentine’s week hadn’t worn off and so no one got physical with Dick or me. Instead we were verbally assaulted from afar, which was fine. That we could deal with.

“Come on, show me what you’re writing!” he reached over to try and snatch my notebook, which I had covered most of with my arm while I wrote.

“No! You can’t see it,”

“It’s my _birthday_ though!” he whined, giving me his best puppy dog eyes.

“Hey,” I tapped his nose with the eraser on my pencil and he frowned, going cross-eyed when it got too close. “Do _not_ start playing the birthday card. It won’t have any effect on me!”

“Then why can’t I play it? If it doesn’t affect you theeen it’s fine,” I frowned and he smirked. “Show me!”

“Absolutely not!” I held the notebook to my chest, and he pried at my hands.

“Please?”

“No, Dick you can’t read it.”

“Oh come on.”

“Maybe later, but only later, and later means back at your house it does not mean in five minutes!”

He sighed, probably disappointed that I remembered to define later. I’d made that mistake before. The little brat was too clever for his own good; he could find a loophole in anything. “Fine,” he sat back in his chair and picked at his food, eyes downcast.

“Don’t pout. It’s not really worth reading right now anyway.” I placed the notebook in my lap, leaning it against the table’s edge.

“It definitely is. Or you wouldn’t keep it from me,” he crossed his arms and gave me a halfhearted glare.

“I’m keeping it from you because it’s not _done_ yet.” I started writing again, sighing through my nose. My handwriting was awful, it looked like chicken scratch. I hoped he’d be _able_ to read it.

“Can you tell me what it’s about?” he cast me a side glance. “Like, is it a story?”

“Sort of, I guess,”

“Is it about your Wonderland?”

I looked at him. “What makes you think I write anything about my Wonderland?”

“That notebook I found in your room, the one that had ‘Cheshire’s Escape’ in it. You were probably talking about your sister. And I’m pretty sure that she’d be alive in your Wonderland, since you miss her so much.”

Why did he even remember that? It was an insignificant moment compared to the escape out the window, or the trip to Cheshire’s favorite restaurant. There were much more important things that happened that day. “And?”

“And some of the stuff you’ve told me, like how I’m Robin the Boy Wonder,” he smiled at that “And how I work with your version of Batman, and all the stories that go with it, it’s all so _detailed_. I mean how else would you keep it straight unless you wrote it down somewhere?”

I sighed. “Alright, so you caught me there.”

“So you’re writing about your Wonderland?” he lit up, and then deflated when I shook my head. “Then…?”

“I’m not writing about it now, but, I do write about it. I…actually have a bunch of notebooks filled with stuff…” I dropped my gaze to the paper in front of me. Admitting that I wrote so much made me feel oddly vulnerable, I guess because those notebooks were like some screwed up diary.

“Well…you think I could read them sometime?” he had that am-I-asking-too-much look on his face.

“I…” a sigh escaped me. “Yeah, maybe sometime,” I offered a smile and he gave me a grin before I returned to my writings.

The thing I was actually putting down on that paper wasn’t a story of any kind. Not really. It was more of a letter. I felt guilty, always, when Dick so perfectly expressed his feelings for me. He could do it with a touch, a few well-chosen words or even just a look. But when I tried—case in point being New Year’s Eve—I just stumbled over my words or didn’t say anything at all. So, I wrote him a letter.

A letter I gave him after we ate his birthday cake (homemade by Maggie), and he opened a couple of presents. He had saved mine and Jason’s for last, and the pickpocket was absolutely thrilled by Dick’s reaction. We were in the privacy of their room, and the little bird had teared up, choking on his thank you. He then threw his arms around Jason and me.

Jason had to leave the room because of all the grinning he was doing, probably thinking it was going to ruin his ‘bad-boy’ image. I’d laughed at him.

When Dick recovered from the first gift, placing his picture inside the frame and setting it on his nightstand, I presented him with a slightly crumpled piece of paper. He grinned broadly. “Is this what you were doing in lunch?”

“Mhmm, now be warned, I’m not the best at wording things so it’s probably going to sound ridiculous.”

He ignored my warning and immediately started reading it out loud. “ _Dear Dickie-bird_ ,” I received a shove for the use of the nickname. “ _I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings for you_ —is this a love letter?” he looked at me warily and I rolled my eyes.

“No, it’s not a love letter or a confession or anything like that.”

He nodded, visibly relieved, and continued reading, this time silently.

_Dear Dickie-bird,_

_I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings for you, so I thought I’d try writing them down instead. (Not that you’re making it easy, looking over my shoulder like that.)_

_But anyway, do you remember last night? How we were huddled up under that blanket on the couch? Or all those times we slept together in your bed? I love moments like that, and would be elated if I could just live in them forever. There isn’t anything romantic about them, which is, I think, part of what makes them so perfect._

_I love you to pieces, Dickie, but it’s in the way a sister loves a brother, or the way two best friends feel about each other. Sure, I know I was your first kiss, and you were mine (I know I never told you, but New Year’s Eve was my first kiss too) but I never have silly fantasies about what it would be like to marry you or even to kiss you a second time._

_I think plenty about our future, but it’s more just wondering if we’ll stay friends. I pray to whatever deity is out there that we will._

_You always deny it when me and Jay tell you how perfect you are, but it’s true. And I don’t say it so that I feel better about myself sucking so hard at pretty much everything compared to you. I say it because to me, at least, you are_ _perfect. I’m damn lucky to have a friend like you. I never thought that sitting with you in lunch that one time would turn into something this awesome._

_You make me feel (and I know this is corny so don’t laugh) special. Really, really special. I don’t feel like I’m worth much, most of the time. I never thought I could actually accomplish anything on my own. I figured I’d never mean something to someone. I’d just live home and only really leave to visit mom, and be dad’s punching bag until one of us died or he found something more fun to do. But when I’m hanging out with you, Dickie, it’s like being in paradise._

_Being friends with you is an honor, it really is. You make me feel wanted, and I hope I never lose that. I hope I never lose you, because you’re amazing. Just hearing your voice makes me happy and being with you makes me feel like I’m on top of the world._

_I really hope this came out right, and even if it did this is only a little of what I feel for you. I’m sorry I can’t find words for the rest of it. I hope it helps persuade you to keep being my friend, Dickie, because I’m not sure I can find something more perfect to live for than my little bird._

_Love,_

_Artemis_

The whole time he was reading I was chewing on my lip. My face felt hot, and I was so embarrassed. I should’ve just burned the thing. How I would’ve accomplished that, I don’t know, since I hadn’t had access to matches or anything between writing the letter and that moment. But it should’ve been burned. It was humiliatingly candid, and based on my track record, probably came out sounding like I had some massive and completely creepy crush on him because no matter what I said, it kind of _was_ a love letter. Just not in the conventional sense. Either way, I had just vomited up all my feelings onto a piece of paper. And I couldn’t believe I’d actually let him read it.  I could’ve died waiting for him to finish. I wished I would have.

He finally looked up from the paper after what felt like eons. And then he was quiet. He didn’t speak for a few moments—a few very _long_ moments—and he didn’t look at me.

He thought it was weird. And awful, and horrible, and creepy, and disturbing, and wrong, and—

“Thank you,” I barely heard it, it was little more than a whisper.

“You’re…thanking me?” I was dumbfounded. He nodded and dropped his head, sniffling a little. “No! I’m sorry! Don’t cry please, I’m sorry it was so…weird, or…creepy or whatever just don’t cry Dickie-bird,” Oh god. Why was I so stupid? Why was I so painfully stupid? I knew it was a bad idea. Even Dick wasn’t that frighteningly sentimental that he’d want something like that abomination I called a letter.

“No, it’s…thank you,” he reached up to wipe his eyes. “I…I always feel like I’m being too clingy, or annoying, you know? I mean…I know you’d tell me to shut up if I was but I still worry about it,”

“No, I know how you feel,” I breathed. I lifted a hand to put on his shoulder but stopped, and ended up with it just awkwardly hovering.

“This is great, Artemis, it really is,” he folded up the paper and set it in front of his picture frame. He still hadn’t looked at me and I bit my lip again, deciding to set my hand on his shoulder after all. He leaned into the touch, which I took to be a good sign, despite my nerves.

“I meant it all, Dickie.” I whispered. I felt almost nauseas.  Somehow, I felt like I’d ruined our friendship. There was this strange tension in the air, one that hadn’t been there before. Even when we’d first met, I never felt uncomfortable like that. My throat tightened when I realized I might’ve just scared off the only real friend I’d ever had.

Why was I so stupid?

“I should…I’m gonna go, okay? But…happy birthday,” my voice cracked on the last word and I leaned forward to press a kiss to his hair, but thought better of it at the last second. When I stood I felt his small hands latch onto the back of my shirt. I froze.

“Don’t go,” he pulled on my shirt and I lowered slowly into a sitting position. Dick wrapped his arms around me, though my back was still to him, and his hair brushed against the corner of my jaw when he pressed his temple against side of my neck. “I’m sorry I’m being all quiet it’s just…”

Hesitantly, I lifted a hand and placed it over his.

“I…you don’t know how much that means to me,” My eyes widened a little bit, but I didn’t dare speak. “Artemis I know you’ve said before that you love me, but it was always after I’ve said it first, and…not that I thought you didn’t mean it but it just never really sank in like this,”

“I told you I suck at expressing myself,” my own voice was barely above a cracked whisper.

“This means _so_ much to me. Until I met you I never felt wanted anywhere but with my parents, and before this I never really…felt _loved_ by anyone but them. But don’t think my silence is because I don’t appreciate it, because I do. More than you could possibly imagine.”

I released a shaky breath, and was overcome with relief. I turned slowly in his arms and circled my own around him. He tightened his hold on me, moving his arms around my neck and burying his face in my shoulder. Evidently I meant more to him than I had originally thought. To be compared to his parents, _that_ made me feel like something incredible.

“And…it’s kind of nice, to be someone’s little bird again.” He mumbled. “But don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”

I laughed into his hair and gave him the kiss I’d decided against a few moments ago. “Not even Jason?”

“ _Especially_ not Jason.” I felt the slightest tug on my ponytail and I laughed again.

“Didn’t take you for a hair-puller.”

“Didn’t take you for a sap.”

I scoffed and let go of him, my hands out to the side. “That’s it, I take everything back. No more hugs for you.”

“Awww!” he whined, moving closer and straddling my lap. “But Artemis!”

“Nope! Now get outta my lap.”

“Not until you hug me,” he pushed me down on my back into an all too familiar position. Lying down, with his arms latched around me and his body lying on top of mine, I’d woken up with him like this more than once.

“Absolutely not!”

“Then I’m just gonna take a nap.” He faked a yawn. “Mm, goodnight, Artemis,”

“Don’t you dare you little circus whelp!” I poked his sides and he squeaked, sitting up and still on me. He covered himself and stared at me with a completely scandalized expression. “Yeah, that’s right, tremble in fear!” I did a pathetic attempt at an evil laugh and he rolled his eyes.

“Your cackle sucks.”

“Whatever you say, Dickie-bird,”

Something did, in fact change about our relationship after I wrote him that letter. No, it didn’t get romantic. We were just…closer. He stopped asking to borrow Cheshire’s hoodie or any of my others for that matter and just slipped them on as soon as I removed them. He didn’t get that guilty look on his face when he’d ask me something personal, either.

I didn’t even feel embarrassed when I finally let him read some of my Wonderland—which he was adamant would be a bestseller if I ever put it into book form.

We didn’t get more physical—if that was even possible without it turning sexual—but when we hugged, it just _meant_ more. The security I felt in his arms was just more complete. Even our conversations seemed to take on a new level of depth. Of course there were still things we didn’t talk about, namely my family, but the words we exchanged after his birthday made so many of our conversations before that seem hollow, somehow.

I loved it. I felt so whole, everything just seemed… _brighter_. It was god awful cliché, but undeniably true.

Jason picked up on the slightly more comfortable dynamic quickly. He asked several times if we were ‘finally fucking’ for which he received nasty looks, slaps to the back of the head, and one well-placed kick in the ass from Dick. He shut up about it after that, but still snuck in the occasional over the top comment or knowing smirk. It was almost endearing. _Almost_.

Unfortunately, with all the good things that happened, Jack had to add a universe-balancing negative flow to the mix. His…problematic behavior seemed to be escalating again, which was ridiculous. He’d only been with them for about three months. He was being especially antagonistic towards Jason, who was having none of that.

Jack wasn’t laying hands on him anymore, not really. He was just provoking the younger boy. Constantly, in fact. He was always making snide remarks about Jason himself and about Dick. Sometimes, he even said things about me. Being as protective as he was, the pickpocket attacked Jack on several occasions, almost always leaving bruises.

It drew the attention of a social worker, and Jason suddenly became the problem child in the woman’s eyes. She seemed to forget all about Jack’s probationary status in the house, in fact she stated he’d improved. But Jason, that was another story.


	15. For Every Positive...

The weather started to get warm again mid-April, and some days we could even wear shorts and t-shirts. Dick was thrilled with this, which made sense, since he was a Spring baby. I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, since I didn’t have the muscles to show off that he did. When I told him this, he simply told me that he’d get me some.

“What exactly does that mean?” I pulled my long ponytail through the back of Cheshire’s old baseball cap as we walked out of the school. I gave him a wary look.

“It means I’m gonna put you through my work-out routine.” Oh god.

“The hell that’s happening, I’ve _seen_ you work-out. It’s terrifying!” I crossed my arms. I was wearing borrowed clothes that day. I’d slept at his house the night before, so I was wearing my undergarments over again—though Maggie had washed them—and because of the bipolar weather, a pair of Dick’s cargo shorts and one of his t-shirts instead of my jeans and hoodie. The shorts were a little small, and I had to set them low on my hips so they wouldn’t look ridiculously short. The t-shirt was unfortunately a little short, but otherwise fit decently. The only real complaint was that I was dressed as a thirteen year old boy instead of a fifteen year old girl.

“And if you do it for a summer, you’ll be jacked!” he grinned widely at me, throwing his bare arms out to the side—he was wearing virtually the same outfit I was.

“Not worth it if I gotta be under your tutelage, kid. I’ll just keep being bony, thanks.”

“I’ll convince you. Just wait.” He grinned that evil little grin of his and I scoffed.

I shoved one hand in my pocket, playing with my necklace with the fingers on my other. We were walking from the High School to the joined Middle and Elementary schools’ campus. Our intent had been to pick up Jason from school and introduce him to Pop’s ice cream for the first time. But, par for the course, the universe decided to ruin our perfectly good day.

When we arrived, we found a huge crowd of kids had gathered, from both schools, around the flagpole in the front of the campus.

“Oh no.” Dick mumbled, immediately rushing for the group. “Get outta the way!” he tried to shove through the crowd with no luck, so I fought our way through to the center. Kids were hooting and hollering, which of course meant there was some kind of fight.

There was an array of loud curses filtering through the air, and it was abruptly cut off. A moment later we reached the center of the wide circle. “Jason!” Dick’s voice was panicked.

Jason was on the ground, under a much larger body. He was clawing at the hands that were clamped around his throat, thumbs pressing on his windpipe. His feet were kicking, but not making any hits on the body that was over him. To his credit, he didn’t look scared, just furious, as he stared up into Jack’s grinning face.

“Jay!” Dick called for him again and we both rushed over to the pair, I grabbed Jack by the back of his shirt collar and gave it a hard jerk, pulling him off Jason and effectively cutting off his air supply.

Dick dropped to his knees next to Jay, who sat up as soon as he was able and drew in as much air as he could manage. “Are you okay?” Dick moved his hand to touch the pickpocket, when he lunged for Jack.

“You son of a bitch!” Dick caught him around the waist and I dragged Jack a little farther back by his shirt collar.

“Jay, stop it!” he was fighting to keep Jason back, having unintentionally pulled the red head into his lap.

Jack ripped his shirt from my hand and got to his feet, staring down at me, shadows forming in the deep hollows of his face. “You shouldn’t get involved in shit that doesn’t concern you, bitch.”

There was something extremely unsettling about the way he spoke to me. “Back off, creep.” I bit out, glaring up at him from under the brim of my hat. “Touch either of them again, and I’ll _end_ you.”

He smirked and I had to fight to keep a shiver from running up my spine. “We’ll see who ends who.” He shoved past me, and disappeared into the slowly dispersing crowd. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Jay, cut it out! It’s not worth it!” my attention was grabbed when I saw Dick fighting to reign in Jason, whose voice was painfully hoarse. His neck was starting to bruise.

“That fucking—I’ll kill him!”

“Hoodie, stop it! You can’t get into another fight! You can’t fight him again! They’ll send you away!”

At this, Jay stopped actively trying to escape. His breathing was still unnaturally heavy and he pushed out of Dick’s grip, and out of his lap. I moved closer and knelt on the ground next to the boys. “He started it!”

“It doesn’t matter! _You’re_ the one they’re watching, you can’t go after him again!”

“I’ll just wait until the fucker tries to go to sleep, then I’ll—”

“No, Jay, you can’t!” Dick took him by the shoulders, and shook him. He wasn’t begging anymore, he was commanding.

“Why the _fuck_ not?”

“Because if you do they’ll move you, Jay, they’ll move you to another home or juvie or something and we’ll never see each other again. They’ll take you away from me, do you want that?” he shook the red head, who just stared at him, pale green eyes wide.

“…No! I…I don’t wanna move…” his voice, still hoarse from being strangled, cracked. “I don’t wanna leave…”

“Then don’t go after him again! No matter what he says to you, you do _not_ fight him.”

For the first time since I’d met Jason, I registered how young he really was.

I’d never seen Jason fight before, but watching him, even for that brief moment, anyone could tell the kid was impossibly brave. He didn’t even look afraid while the life was being choked out of him. He seemed so much older than he was.

I knew Dick was a kid, he actually acted like one. He was innocent and cheerful and, well, childish. But Jason, he was so angry. He was so protective and so fiercely loyal. He didn’t have an unrealistically optimistic view of the world; he saw things for what they were. He didn’t think everything could be fixed up nice and tied with a ribbon. He understood the reality of situations Dick couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Not to mention he had the mouth of a sailor.

But when Dick told him they might be separated? The heartbroken look in Jason’s pale green eyes de-aged him to the ten year old boy that he was.

“Ok…” Dick sighed at the answer, letting go of Jason’s shoulders.

“What else did he do to you?” he touched Jason’s neck and the red head moved away from the touch.

“Hit me in the eye, but not really hard.” The swelling was proof that it was harder than he said.

“We should get you some ice,” I interjected, and they both looked at me. “We should still go to Pop’s, he’s got ice, obviously. And ice cream is always extra good after you get the crap kicked out of you.”

Dick frowned deeply and Jason’s lips twitched into a smile.

“Come on, boys.” I stood and grabbed their hands, pulling them to their feet.

It was weird, being the one to lighten the mood for once. But I got them to Pop’s, where the old man gave us our deserts and some ice, no questions asked. That was one of the best things about Pop, he never fussed.

Dick on the other hand was a mother hen, and that moment where Jason had shown his love for his foster brother was completely gone. Now he was just irritated.

“Dick I’m _fine_ would ya back off already? I’m not fucking bleeding and I got some god damned ice and I’m _fine_!”

“Jay he tried to strangle you!”

“Yeah, ‘try’ being the key word so _stop_ already! Fuckin’ Christ!”

“Dick, leave the kid be, he’s fine.” I squeezed the little bird’s shoulder and he frowned at me. “Jason’s a tough little brat he’s okay.”

“I’m not a brat!”

“I’m just…” Dick sighed and bit into his ice cream. “I don’t like it.”

“No one does, Dickie-bird, but he’s okay. The bruises will fade like they always do. I think I’d know,” he frowned at me again, clearly not appreciative of the reference to my own experience with strangulation.

“What’d that jackass say to you anyway?” Jason changed the subject, locking his swollen expression on me.

“What makes you think he said anything?” I raised my eyebrow and he scoffed.

“It’s _Jack_ he always says _some_ dumbass thing.”

“Nothing important, Jay, it was just a stupid threat.” I licked my ice cream—it was licorice flavored.

“He threatened you?” Dick’s voice raised an octave and I sighed through my nose.

“He threatens lots of people, Dickie, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah it does!” he got to his feet and started pacing in front of Jason and I. “Obviously he makes good on his threats! He almost killed Jay!” he locked his eyes on Jason’s throat and the pickpocket sighed in exasperation.

“It wasn’t really a threat.”

“You just said it was!” he threw his free arm out to the side.

“He told me I ‘shouldn’t get involved in things that don’t concern me’ and called me a bitch. Then I told him if he touched you guys again I’d end him and he said ‘we’ll see who ends who’.” They stared at me. “So really _I_ was the one making threats.”

“Sweet.” Jason grinned at me, earning a furious glare from his brother.

“Not sweet! Not sweet at all!” he looked at me again, a mixture of fear and anger on his pretty face. “You can’t get into fights! Not over us, or over anything else, it’s—I mean…it’s not a good idea!”

“Dick,”

“Why does everyone have to get into fights!” he narrowed his eyes.

“Dickie-bird,”

“Why is everyone always hitting everyone else and why—”

“—can’t we all just get along?” Jason finished with a snort.

Dick glared at him, clearly frustrated, before turning back to me. “Everyone needs to _stop_ fighting,”

“Dickie-bird,” I took his free hand and gave it a squeeze. His shoulders slumped. “I’m not gonna be sent away for fighting. Only you or Jason have that risk. I don’t. Trust me even if I wanted to I’d be stuck home anyway. And I’m sorry, but while I agree Jay shouldn’t fight, that doesn’t mean I _won’t_ if someone’s going after you.”

“I don’t _want_ you to,” he was almost whining.

“You can’t always get what you want.” He looked defeated, and started chewing on his lip. “I’ll try—and I said _try_ which means no guarantees—not to get into it with anyone. But sometimes it’s gonna happen. Probably especially with Jack,” I muttered the last part.

“If I don’t get him first,” Jason mumbled, swallowing the last of his cone and reapplying the ice to his left eye.

Dick whirled around to face him. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?” Poor bird was so frustrated.

“Yeah, you said you don’t want her to fight.”

“Or you! Because _you_ will get sent away!” Dick grabbed his upper arms and shook him again, more forcefully this time. “Do you understand me?” Jason didn’t answer, just staring at his foster brother, that heartbroken look on his face again. “Jason, do you understand?”

“Dick,” I put my hand on the little bird’s shoulder and he glanced at me briefly.

“Do you understand me?” he shook Jason again.

“Yes…”

“Good, now promise me you won’t fight him again.” Jason chewed on his lip, and Dick’s eyes narrowed. “ _Promise_ me, Jay,”

“But what if—”

“Damn it, Jason!” the pickpocket and I both blinked, completely caught off guard by the curse Dick had just uttered. “I want you to _promise_ me, Jason. I need you to say it!”

Jason swallowed, his little fingers tightening on his ice pack. “I…I promise,” His hoarse voice was quiet.

I felt a sense of déjà vu, as this was the second time in one day they’d been like this. I removed my hand from Dick’s shoulder, and he quickly wrapped Jason into a hug.

Any other day, hell any other _second_ and Jason would have started struggling and spouting out every curse word under the sun. But Dick always did have great timing, because instead Jason grabbed a handful of the little bird’s shirt and squeezed until his knuckles were white. When I looked up from his hand to see his face, I found it buried in Dick’s shoulder.

“You _worry_ me, Hoodie,” Dick mumbled into red hair.

“I didn’t mean to…” his grip on Dick’s shirt tightened—if that was possible—as he spoke. Dick only sighed, and held onto Jason for another few seconds before letting him go.

They didn’t speak of that moment again for a long time. I didn’t know if it was some kind of unspoken guy code or something equally stupid, but unless the situation was life threatening, I didn’t think they’d ever acknowledge their affection for each other like that. I wasn’t surprised that Jason would avoid the subject. But it was unusual for Dick, I thought, since he was so openly emotional.

I figured he was staying off the subject for Jason’s benefit. The little pickpocket would be in a state of extreme discomfort if made to talk about something like that. So, even though Dick would prefer to cling to Jason like he did me, he kept his distance. He loved to please others much more than he did himself. Even if it meant sacrificing a physical connection with someone he was close to.

I didn’t see them hug again for a long time.

It was something no one really talked about. But there were a lot of things like that between the three of us. Between me and Dick. We didn’t talk about Jason’s hero-worship for Dick, or about how he lived before he was put into the system. We didn’t talk about how Jason and I were excessively angry and violent. We didn’t talk about the fact that Dick was too trusting, or that he was overly affectionate. We didn’t talk about how our relationship was far too physical to be just friends and physical in the wrong way to be siblings. I never talked about the circumstances of Jade’s death.

Sometimes, the universe chooses to break the silence.


	16. An Unspoken Truth

I’d been trying so hard not to snap at Dick during school. He wasn’t acting any different and deep down, nothing he did bothered me. I was just tired. I hadn’t slept much the night before, I’d stayed up to some unreasonable hour to read Lewis Carol’s novel from start to finish. It wasn’t unusual, I’d done it before, it was just that I usually fell asleep before I got to the end. That night, I’d managed to finish the book.

Normally, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a source of comfort. It relaxed me, got me out of my own head. The book reminded me that no matter how trapped I felt sometimes, that there were rabbit holes everywhere. I just had to find my white rabbit and follow him down. The story, with it’s insane characters and whimsical places always brought up wonderful memories of Jade, the times we would stay up late and pretend we were Cheshire and Alice, or when she would take me to Amusement Mile and she’d laugh at me for how excited I was by the bright street lights and colorful people that were out after hours. It surfaced all the warm fuzzy memories.

Instead I woke up with a sense of depressing nostalgia and a horrible mood. It didn’t help that it was uncomfortably humid all day, either. I had a fan on in my bedroom, but it was a piece of garbage, and the school’s air conditioning was a joke. Honestly, I was pretty sure that the school’s air conditioning was actually just an urban legend.

In my efforts to keep from verbally assaulting Dick I was quiet, unusually so. I think it hurt his feelings how little I spoke to him. In retrospect, it probably would have been better to snap at him once and apologize than virtually ignore him all day long.  He kept trying to strike up a conversation, by complaining about the heat or making lame jokes that on any other day would have had me laughing. I didn’t take the bait, even once, and I don’t think I so much as cracked a smile at him.

I could see it in his face, that he was hurt. He made expressions I hadn’t seen in almost two years. The ones that he always wore when we first met, the ones that meant he felt like he was annoying and that I didn’t want him around. It broke my heart.

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but it would have come out in a way that would’ve totally contradicted what I was saying to him. By the time we were in the cafeteria, he seemed like he’d about given up, probably not wanting to make me angry. I didn’t say anything, except maybe how bad the food was. That was the worst lunch period we’d ever shared.

I couldn’t wait to leave school, to get Jason and then walk the boys home. It wouldn’t affect Jason, who was always angry anyway, but I wanted to get my toxic mood away from Dick as fast as possible.

At some point during that never ending day, it had started raining, pouring in fact. It hadn’t let up by the time we walked home that day. None of us had jackets, and I made Dick carry my near useless umbrella. I refused to let him share it with me—it couldn’t cover both of us as well as it had when we first met, we’d both gotten bigger. Jason however had no problem fitting underneath it with the little bird. Dick tried to coax me under a few times.

“Artemis you’re gonna get sick!” he pulled on my hand, trying to shield me from the sheets of rain.

I sighed. “Dick, no. You two share. I’m fine.” It was a blatant lie. I only had on a t-shirt and some of my own shorts, which meant they were mid-thigh. At least I was wearing sneakers. I did have Cheshire’s old baseball cap on, but that was the extent of my cover. I was soaked to the bone, even my underwear and bra were drenched, and my skin was cold to the touch. I’d brought the umbrella purely by accident, since it was supposed to be sunny and warm all day long. Stupid weather.

“Artemis-!”

“For fuck’s sake let it _go_ she c’n get soaked if she wants.” Jason huffed, huddling closer to his foster brother. If we all tried to fit, Jason would have been half out in the rain himself. His hood wasn’t enough to keep him dry.

“But-“

“I’m _fine_ , Dick.” I winced at the obvious annoyance in my tone. The little bird didn’t say anything else.

After I got the boys home, I left immediately for my own house. I didn’t see Maggie or John and barely said goodbye to the boys. I didn’t even go inside; I just wasn’t in any kind of mood to be fussed over that day. And if there was one thing I could have counted on, it was that Dick would have mothered me until he was positive my health was as close to perfect as was possible—bad mood or not. I definitely would have said something I’d regret.

I practically ran back to my empty apartment, slipping and falling a few times. My palms and knees were scraped up pretty good when I finally got home.

Dad wasn’t there; I wasn’t sure where he’d gone off to this time. But his absence meant I had the apartment to myself, and in that state of mind it was a good thing.

When I got inside, I made a beeline for my room. I quickly dumped my soaking clothes into my empty hamper—everything else was on the floor. I dabbed my waterlogged body with a ratty towel and scrubbed my hair with it before throwing it back behind my shoulders and straightening out the necklace Dick had given me.

I took a minute to look myself over in the small mirror mounted on the wall. I rubbed my hand over my collar bone and upper chest, tracing a light scar I’d gotten in a scuffle with the jerks downstairs. There were small bumps all over me, a sign I was cold.

My skin was olive tinted, one of the only three traits I’d inherited from my mother’s Vietnamese heritage—the others being the slight slant to my eyes and my high cheek bones. But olive tint or no, I was still extremely pale. There were lightly forming tan lines on my arms, legs, and around my neck from the clothes I wore. They weren’t exactly flattering. The palest part of my body was my torso, it was like highlighting how thin I was. I could all but count the ribs under my skin, and I could trace the contours of my pelvic bone with my fingertips with unsettling ease. There was a thin, indented line on my abdomen, starting at the base of my ribcage and ending around my naval. It was the slightest hint of the musculature I wished I had, only visible because there was so little fat on my body my skin clung to whatever happened to be under it.

It took about one minute for me to become too repulsed by my appearance to look at it any longer. I shut my eyes briefly and opened my dresser drawer. I pulled out a pair of dry underwear and slipped them on, and was about to reach for my own pajamas, but decided against it and shoved the drawer closed. I opened the drawer beside it—the one where Jade’s clothes were still haphazardly folded.

I dug through the drawer and pulled out a knee length nightgown that was deep green in color. I slipped it on, and sighed with some relief when it was only slightly too big. Jade had been as thin as I was, but she was a little more full-figured. She wasn’t nearly as skeletal, she had well defined muscles and curves, and she had always treated her body like a temple. She didn’t eat much either, but she made up for the lack in sustenance by working her body regularly.

While I was curled up in bed for the night, I used to just open my eyes a fraction and watch her lithe form move around our room. She would stretch—her flexibility was amazing. She would do push-ups, sit-ups, squat thrusts, and a bunch of other things that I couldn’t remember. I always took comfort in watching her move, in how graceful she was, how cat-like. Dick reminded me of her in that way.

I smoothed the cotton gown over my stomach, looking at the tendons in my foot and watching them move as I wiggled my toes. When Cheshire had worn that nightgown, it’d looked perfect. When I wore it, I looked like a little girl playing dress-up, which is essentially what I was.

I closed her drawer and opened another, grabbing the Cheshire hoodie and pulling it on with a shiver. I sniffled involuntarily and sighed, it was the beginnings of a cold. I gathered my shoulder length hair in my hands and twisted it into a bun at the base of my neck, tucking it beneath my hood where it fell, cold and damp against the top of my protruding spine.

I left my room, closing the door as much as possible behind me out of habit before going out into the living room.

I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself. I had a free evening. I shivered again and walked over to the fridge, opening it and looking inside. There was a yogurt in there that didn’t look half bad, but thinking about eating it made my stomach twist uncomfortably so I decided against it and shut the door instead.

A quick glance at the clock earned a sigh. It was only five, and I had nothing to do. I could have, I supposed, gone back to Dick’s house and spent my free-time with him, but I didn’t want to make him feel any worse then I probably already had. The little bird deserved so much better than that. Besides, I felt gross and walking in the rain again didn’t seem like the brightest idea.

I stood in the kitchen for an undetermined amount of time, staring at the paint chipped wall next to the fridge, completely zoned out. A shiver brought me back to reality, despite the fact that I wasn’t particularly cold; in fact I was a little over heated. I sniffled and rolled my eyes in annoyance. Maybe the best thing at that point was to just go to sleep. I had no reason to be awake, all I was doing was moping around.

So that’s what I did. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled a little, shut off all the lights, and then tucked myself into my bed, eyes trained on the tattered poster that hung on the wall over Cheshire’s bed. I shivered again and closed my eyes.

I woke up several hours later, and felt like I was boiling. I threw back the covers, and the sudden rush of air—sticky as it was—caused a shudder. I ran my hand through my still damp hair. I could feel my blood pulsing in my head, it was loud and painful, like being hit repeatedly with something hollow.

Maybe Dick was right, I should’ve gotten out of the rain.

I sat up and pressed my palm to my forehead, regretting the sudden movement. Slower this time, I got to my feet, and walked, carefully, and with my eyes glued to the floor to the bathroom. I turned on the light and blinked a few times to focus my vision before standing in front of the mirror. I looked almost as bad as I felt. My hair had dried in all different directions, my skin was a little paler than usual, and there was a sunburn-like tint to my cheeks. All of my borrowed clothes were twisted and wrinkled to the point of being near unrecognizable, and I looked exhausted.

My eyes flickered away from my expression to the small, dust covered digital clock on the counter. It was only nine. How could four hours have been enough time for me to go from feeling gross to downright awful?

Dick was definitely right about that damn umbrella.

I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of Tylenol. I dry swallowed a couple of them and put the bottle back, shutting the cabinet harder than necessary and sighing at my appearance. In a moment of vanity, I combed my hair out and straightened my clothes, before slapping the light switch and going back into my room. I rubbed the back of my sweat-dampened neck.

It was still humid, and my fan was still useless. The air was thick and wet, and I opened the window to let some fresh air inside. It definitely felt good to breathe in.

I all but fell back onto the mattress, not bothering to cover myself again. I felt hot, despite my shivering. I probably had a fever, and it was likely high. Had Cheshire been alive, she would have called me an idiot for getting sick and made me some weird and oddly delicious tea to help the nausea, something she claimed mom did for her when she was really young.

She always looked after me when I was sick. Though it didn’t happen often, I used to have trouble falling asleep when I’d get a fever, and she’d sit next to me on my bed and play with my hair until I lost consciousness.

I desperately wished she was there with me, so I could lay my head in her lap and ask her to read to me. Since that option didn’t exist, I pulled the collar of her sweatshirt up over my nose, and imagined that her scent was still there. Of course it wasn’t, in fact I couldn’t even begin to remember what she smelled like. I breathed in deeply and listened hard, straining my ears to catch her velvet voice as she read from the pages of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

It’s a horrible feeling, when you want to hear, see, smell and touch someone who just isn’t there. It was like someone had reached into my chest and clutched my heart, like they were squeezing it as hard as they could, and no matter how much I begged and pleaded they wouldn’t let go.

When there was still no scent, and still no voice to listen to, I felt my throat tighten. Hot tears burned my eyes and I curled up into a tight ball, stifling a pathetic whimper. I was overwhelmed with the desire to see my sister. I wanted to hear her smooth voice. I wanted to feel her sitting next to me, braiding and unbraiding and twisting my hair around her fingers. I wanted to inhale her scent, which even though I couldn’t remember it, I knew had always comforted me.

Unfortunately, that was impossible.

I didn’t go to school the next day, and when I finally climbed out of bed around one, I felt even worse than the day before. I had tossed and turned all night, never able to find a comfortable position. As soft as my clothes and sheets were, they’d felt like sandpaper on my skin.

My sleep—what little I got—was full of dreams about Cheshire. Some of them were nice, like I was reliving a memory. There was a golden, sun kissed glow, like the sun had just begun to rise or had almost set, and it was warm. No hot or humid like in real life, just warm, like sitting beside a fire. At least, it was how I imagined sitting beside a fire would feel. I’d never actually seen a controlled blaze that wasn’t on a match or coming from a lighter.

But most of my dreams were more like nightmares, where I saw her corpse; still warm, lying on the pavement. It was dark and cold and damp, and the horrible, metallic smell that was blood filtered up through the air from thirteen stories below to claw its way into my nose. It was so dark in color, the only reason I could differentiate from the pavement in the alley was because of the crimson shimmer, the way the moonlight glinted off of the rapidly growing pool spilling out of my sister’s skull.

I shuffled out of my room and down the hall. The living room was unkempt and unpleasant looking, but anything seemed better than my stuffy bedroom right then. The sofa called to me, and I collapsed onto it, my head pounding and body wracked with muscle spasms caused by a chill that wouldn’t go away. I buried my face in the flattened couch cushion and sighed. I wondered if maybe the change of scenery would rid me of the gruesome flashes in my head, if I could sleep off the nausea and chills.

That was the idea anyway.

I drifted—none to gently—in and out of sleep for nearly two hours. Nothing was getting accomplished as I rolled around on the couch. Sometimes I let my legs hang off the edge, sometimes my arms. I even tried sleeping upside down, with my head hanging off the edge and my legs resting against the back of the couch, which caused all the blood to rush into my skull and made the pounding of my pulse all the louder. No matter what position I tried I felt restless, but despite that I was groggy and tired. It was extremely frustrating, particularly with my short fuse.

Normally I wasn’t a quitter, but in this case I decided to give up all together on sleep. I’d never get the rest I needed if I kept thinking about how much I wanted it. I sat up—slowly—and rolled my now stiff shoulders. Everything hurt, and I groaned pathetically, wiping a thin layer of perspiration from my forehead.

I felt disgusting. My hair was sticking to my face, which along with my neck was on fire, while the rest of me was clammy and freezing. I had an extremely unpleasant taste in my mouth, like I’d eaten something rancid before going to bed instead of brushing my teeth. I desperately wanted a shower, but didn’t trust myself not to slip and crack my skull open or something equally stupid.

I shuffled into the bathroom, still boiling and freezing all at once. I stripped off my clothes, which at that point were damp with sweat and clinging to my skin. Carefully I moved into a sitting position on the small, faded blue rug in front of the bath tub and plugged the drain before turning on the water. I rested my cheek against the cool edge of the white tub and sighed. I watched the water level rise, and absently wondered when the tub had last been scrubbed clean. I decided I should probably do that when I got the chance.

I had always hated baths; they made me feel like a child. They made me feel exposed, sprawled out and naked in the water. The tub was too short for me to really stretch out anyway, and soaking in my own filth wasn’t exactly appealing. But a bath, sitting in warm water, was the only thing I could think of that might cool me down and stop my shivering all at once. Maybe it’d even ease the stiffness in my muscles. Plus there was no way I was taking a shower, with as dizzy as I was.

When the tub was full, I shut off the faucet and slowly lowered myself into the water. I ducked my head under the surface and rinsed the sweat from my hair, carding my fingers through it and exhaling in relief when I came back up.

It took me a few minutes to find a position that was sort of—but not completely—comfortable, before resting my head against the back of the tub. The place where my skull met the top of my neck was pressed against the edge of the tub, which made me a little frustrated. I locked my gaze on the ceiling, where there was evidence of hundreds of steamy showers over the years in the slight ripple of the would-be flat surface. My eyes burned, dry from exhaustion, and so I closed them.

They still stung. I rubbed the heels of my hands against them in frustration. This didn’t help, so I blinked once.

Evidently, that blink lasted a while because suddenly the water was freezing, and I could’ve sworn I heard my name. I sighed and rubbed my eyes again. It wasn’t as though dad was home, or was even likely to come home for a few nights at least.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a familiar voice squeaked out.

I slipped from my sitting position under the water mid-shriek and inhaled a lungful of water. I felt two small hands wrap around my upper arm and pull me back above the surface.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my god—I promise I’m not seeing anything I-I’m not looking and please don’t drown!” I pounded on my chest a few times and hacked up what felt like a gallon of water. “Oh god are you okay?”

I finally flicked my eyes to the small body next to me. His voice and touch had already told me who was there, but seeing Dick’s face, eyes squeezed tightly shut, was a comforting confirmation. “I’m okay, Dickie,” I coughed out, putting a slightly shaky hand on his.

He opened his eyes and gave me a relieved look. “Oh, good…I thought you drowned or something,” he blinked and quickly shut his eyes again, his cheeks lighting up with a brilliant scarlet. “I’m sorry!”

“Dickie, calm down. Just, could you maybe grab me a towel?” He released me as soon as he realized I was trying to pry his fingers from my arm.

“Yeah! Yeah I can do that I can definitely do that,” he turned away from me and grabbed at the old towel that hung off the edge of the counter. His eyes were closed again when he held it up for me.

I took hold of the edges of the tub and as I pushed myself up I suddenly remembered my nausea. I sat back down in the still sloshing water and rubbed my head with a groan.

A few moments passed. “Um...Artemis?”

“I’m okay, Dick,” I took a deep breath and tried again, getting shakily to my feet and wrapping the towel around myself. “You can open your eyes,” I held my towel with one hand and pressed the other against the shower wall, resting all my weight against it, not trusting my legs to support me on their own.

He blinked those pretty blue eyes at me and stood up. “Um, do you need a hand?” I nodded and he offered me one. I took it and continued to hold my towel up as I stepped out of the frigid water and onto the blue rug.

I started for my bedroom and he followed closely behind, tensed and ready to catch me should I suddenly collapse. It suddenly occurred to me, as I stepped from one room into the other, that Dick wasn’t normally in my apartment. In fact I had forbidden him from being there. “Dick, what are you doing here anyway?”

“Oh, um, well you didn’t show up at my house this morning—I was almost late to school because I waited so long—and then you never came to school, so…I got worried,”  he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

Oh right—school. I’d completely forgotten about it. Still in my towel, I sat on the edge of my bed. “How did you get in?” I looked up at him. I knew I had locked the front door.

“Well, I climbed the fire escape, and your window was open, so I just kind of came in,” he looked apologetic. “I know I’m not supposed to come here but I got really worried, and you were in such a bad mood yesterday I thought maybe you got into another fight with your dad, and then you didn’t come to school and so I decided to come here right after and I was just scared something happened to you..”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” I ran a hand through my wet hair. “And, I’m so sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to be such a _bitch_ , I was just tired and I was thinking a lot about Cheshire,”

“It’s fine,” his voice was soft, and I knew it definitely wasn’t fine. I had already known I’d hurt him, and the way his shoulders were hunched was just confirmation of that.

“No, baby bird, it’s not,” I reached out and took his hand, pulling him down next to me. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk, I should’ve just talked to you, and I’m really, really sorry, you deserve better than that,” I wrapped my arms around him, bending a little at the waist to rest my cheek on his shoulder.

“I’m fine, Artemis, really,” he hugged me back, and pressed his cheek against my hair. It was the most comfortable I’d felt in almost two days, but it didn’t last as long as I would’ve liked. He pulled away from me and took his first good look at my face that day. “You don’t look too hot,”

“Well thanks, Dick; you really know how to make a girl feel special,”

He frowned. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He pressed his hand to my forehead, and apparently not satisfied with his ability to judge my temperature, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed. “You’re burning up,”

“Trust me, I noticed.” I exhaled my words and opened my eyes to see him again.

“Well, you need to take something, or drink something cold,” his voice picked up speed.

“I just spent like an hour sitting in cold water, I think I’m okay. Besides I took something earlier.”

“Have you eaten? Or slept?” he watched me for an answer.

“No, and not really,”

He got to his feet and bit his lip. “Let me make you something, you’ve got food, right? You’ve gotta eat, and then after that you have to sleep, a lot, because you look exhausted,” he put up his hands. “No offense,”

“I’m not hungry, Dickie,” I sighed and rubbed my face.

“Artemis you have to eat _something_ ,” he crossed his arms and gave me a look.

“It’ll probably just come right back up.”

He frowned again and dropped his arms to his sides. “There’s gotta be something I can do,”

“Well…there is something,” I found myself suddenly embarrassed.

“What is it?” his face lit up. The little bird was so eager to help.

“Could you just, sit here? And read to me? You know, until I fall asleep, at least. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, I mean my dad won’t be back for a couple of days, so you don’t have to worry about that,” I stopped my rambling before it got any more out of hand by biting my lip, probably a little too hard. If ever there was proof I was desperate for company, it was that I invited him to stay in the warzone that was my apartment.

“Yeah,” he smiled and god if that didn’t make me feel better. “Yeah I can do that, where’s the book?”

I got to my feet and he watched me carefully as I walked over to the dresser. I picked up the worn out paperback and hand it to him. “Um, could you just turn around a minute? I should probably put some clothes on,”

He flushed and immediately did as I’d asked, while I threw on a pair of underwear, a Green Arrow themed t-shirt that had too-long sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants. I didn’t raid Jade’s drawer the second time around, I’d already gotten her night gown and hoodie all sweaty and damp.

I took the few wobbly steps back to my bed and took Dick by the wrist, pulling him back down beside me.

“Are you gonna lie down?” he looked at me in question while moving to sit back against the head board, completely un-fazed by what a wreck my bed was.

I nodded, and when he stopped moving, I lowered myself back onto the mattress, curling up next to his outstretched legs and placing my head in his lap. When he tensed, I cursed myself. He wasn’t Cheshire, what the hell was I trying to accomplish by acting as though he was? I started to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down.

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting that,” he removed his hand from my shoulder and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Either way, you’re too nice to me, this is completely weird.” I mumbled, placing my arm across his thighs and all but hugging them.

“Dude, I sleep on you all the time, it’s not weird.” He scoffed at me, shifting slightly under me. I didn’t answer, just exhaled slowly.

I heard the pages crinkle as he opened the book in his right hand, and started to read the story I could recite from memory. I closed my eyes and just listened.

His voice wasn’t low and velvety like Cheshire’s purr. It was a little lighter, crisper. He annunciated every syllable, hit all the hard sounds in the words just right, and spoke in even tones. It was calming, and I relaxed against him, breathing in his scent.

When he started absently playing with my hair, I just melted. The soft tugging that came from his fingers weaving between the blonde strands sent pleasant tingles through my scalp and down my spine. I sighed contently, and snuggled a bit closer, if that was even possible.

Dick wasn’t Jade, not at all. So much of him reminded me of her, but the fact remained that this energetic boy and my flawless sister were two completely different people. That didn’t mean he wasn’t just as good.

My fever lasted another day and a half, and Dick stayed with me the entire time. He only left me once, to go home and tell John, Maggie, and probably Jason that he was going to sleepover for a night or two. He came back with a bag of clothes and some leftover chicken noodle soup, courtesy of Maggie.

“You know I can heat that up on my own, I’m not helpless,” I sighed, resting my chin in my hand. I was sitting on a stool at the counter while Dick swirled the soup in a pot on the stove. He said Maggie insisted that her soup _not_ be put in the microwave.

“Just let me do it, I want to,” he glanced back at me and I rolled my eyes with a fond smile.

It was nine at night, and although the little bird wasn’t hungry himself, he’d insisted I eat something. Which was why he was standing in my kitchen in black shorts and a bright blue Superman tee, instead of curled up on the couch watching a movie with me like I’d suggested.

“So…”

“Yeah?” I looked up and settled my gaze on his back between his shoulder blades. I could just make out the movement of muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“Earlier, you said that you were mad yesterday because you were thinking about Cheshire a lot,” he paused, probably worried he’d put me back in that mood by asking whatever was on his mind. “Usually talking about her makes you happy, doesn’t it? Maybe kinda sad sometimes, but not mad,” he glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Usually, yeah,” I folded my arms on the counter in front of me, playing with a loose thread on the end of my sleeve.

“So what was different this time?” he turned down the heat on the stove a little bit.

“I wasn’t really angry about her, it’s just…you know how sometimes when you think about something miserable, you just get to a point where, for no real reason, all that misery turns to anger?” he nodded, so I continued. “I was thinking less about her and more about her death, actually I spent practically all my time thinking about it until you got here,”

“You mean…how she fell?” he opened a couple different cabinets before finding the bowl he’d been searching for.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, focusing my gaze on his back again.

There was a soft click as he turned off the stove. He poured half of the soup into the bowl he’d found, and brought it and a spoon over too me.

“Thanks,” I slurped a spoonful of broth and realized I was hungrier than I thought. I supposed it made sense, not having eaten since lunch the day before.

Dick moved to my side of the counter and hopped up to sit beside my bowl. “Told you you needed to eat.”

“Shut up.” I gave him a half-hearted glare and he smirked triumphantly back. We sat in silence while I ate, and he busied himself with swinging his legs back and forth and inspecting everything he could see in my apartment, as per usual.

“Done,” I licked my lips and twirled my spoon between my fingers.

“Do you want more?”

“Not really, no.”

“Too bad.” He hopped down and snatched my bowl away, dodging a playful swat from my hand.

“Brat, are you trying to fatten me up or something?” I joked, watching him all but skip to the stove.

“Like that’s even possible, I’d have to tie you down and force feed you chocolate cake for like two months before you’d even _start_ to gain weight. Waaay too much work.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“That you’re super extremely skinny,” he returned my now full bowl to its place in front of me.

“We can’t all be as perfect as you you little circus whelp,” I gave him a teasing glare and he grinned. I scoffed and hid my smile by slurping soup.

“So do you feel better? After eating I mean,” he hoisted himself up onto the counter again and looked down at me.

“A little, yeah,”

“But not a lot?” he frowned, looking genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, baby-bird. You’re such a mother hen, you know that?”

His cheeks flushed and he pouted at me. “Bird pun, how clever of you,”

I grinned. The pun was unintentional, but he didn’t need to know that. “I know, it’s like I’m a genius or something,”

“Or something,” I slapped his shin and he laughed that little gremlin laugh of his.

I finished my soup and finally coaxed him to the couch, where I put in one of the three movies I owned. I sat down on one end of the couch expecting him to sit in front of me, fit his waist between my legs and tuck his head under my chin. That was how we usually sat for movies—it was comfortable as it was compromising. But instead he stood over me with his arms crossed.

“What?”

“You’re sick, so you get to use _me_ as a pillow this time, so move over,”

“It doesn’t matter, Dick,” I raised an eyebrow, and he blew out a breath.

“It does, I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember? Besides, you looked pretty comfortable earlier,”

I flushed and surrendered my spot on the couch. He sat down, legs stretched out across two cushions. I fit myself comfortably between the back of the couch and his legs, and wrapped my arms around his middle to pull him into a more horizontal position. He squeaked and I chuckled, leaving one of my arms across his waist and resting my head on his stomach.

Dick reached up and pulled the thread-bare blanket off the back of the couch and sat up as much as I would allow to haphazardly spread it across the both of us, before flopping back down onto the couch. He let his head lie on a small throw pillow that was propped up against the arm rest and squirmed a little under me to get more comfortable. “And you say _I’m_ clingy,”

“That’s because you are Dickie-bird.” I threw a leg over the both of his, partially to make fun of him—he often did the same to me when we slept together—and partially because it was more comfortable that way.

“You know you like it.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty asterous.” That earned a soft laugh.

I didn’t pay much attention to the movie, I honestly couldn’t remember what it was even called, and I dozed in and out. About half way through he started talking to me again.

“You have really nice hair,” he had been playing with it for a while—I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it—when he made this observation.

“I don’t really like it.” I breathed.

“It’s just really blonde, is all,” he tucked it behind my ear. “Did Jade have blonde hair too?”

“No, hers was jet black, like mom’s. I look more like dad.”

“Bet you’re prettier than he is,”

I snorted. “I really hope so,” I could sense more than see his grin.

There was a pause, and he continued to drag his fingertips through my hair. “Are you ever gonna tell me what happened to her?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but the question still made me flinch as though he’d screamed it.

Dick had once explained to me the circumstances of his parents’ deaths, but I’d never done the same about Jade. He’d told me how a mobster named Tony Zucco had tried to extort the owner of Haly’s Circus, Jack Haly, and when Jack had refused he’d cut the ropes on the trapeze just before the Flying Graysons started their performance that night. He’d told me how he’d seen Zucco arguing with Jack hours before the show, and how he’d seen the scum run out of the tent as he and his family went in.

All he knew about Jade’s death was that she fell, he didn’t know where, or how, or from what height. He didn’t even know the time of day she died. I didn’t want to tell him the details, partially because I couldn’t stand thinking about it myself, but mostly because I knew exactly how he’d react.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Dickie-bird.”

“…Why won’t you tell me?” There was hurt in his voice. “Don’t you trust me?”

I pushed myself up so I could see him, resting my weight on my right forearm and leaving my left on his stomach. “That’s not it at all and you _know_ that, Dick. I trust you more than anyone else. It’s not about trust.”

“Then what’s it about?” he sat up a little himself, forcing me to look up to see his face.

“It’s,” I sighed, resting my forehead against the base of his ribcage. “I’m trying to protect you, I guess.”

“Protect me from what? It was horrible, I _know_ that but so was watching my parents die, Artemis,”

I flinched and lifted my head to look at him again. “It’s…it’s different than that,”

“ _How_? What happened to her?” I could feel frustration creeping into his tone. I knew he empathized with me, and I knew he wasn’t angry. He just wanted to understand, and I couldn’t fault him for it. I wasn’t making it easy. I didn’t know how to explain myself without going against my decision to protect him. It didn’t seem I was going to be able to stick to my convictions.

“She didn’t…” I sat up more completely, and he had to steady me when a dizzy spell came over me. I locked my eyes with his. “She didn’t _fall_ exactly,”

His bright blue eyes widened a little, and in them I could see the reflection of the movie we weren’t watching. “Someone pushed her?”

“No, she wasn’t pushed, either,” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s complicated,”

“Then what?” he searched my face for the answers I still hadn’t vocalized.

“Dick, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone, and you have to promise you won’t freak out,”

He furrowed his brow, and looked too thoughtful. “Alright,” he looked like he was second guessing himself already.

“Just remember you promised.” I gave him a hard look. “We were going to run away,” My gaze fell to where my hands were clasped in my lap, thumbs restlessly tracing the edge of the blanket I had taken hold of.

“I was eleven, she’d just turned sixteen. Mom’d been sick for as long as I can remember, but she’d only been in the care center for a few months, and dad, well he got so angry about it. He was never _nice_ before, he constantly raised his voice at us, over stupid things, mostly.” I smiled nostalgically, which must have seemed twisted to the little bird in front of me. “Cheshire was never the type to just lie down and take it, she _always_ yelled back, and he’d hit her before. Not really hard, or anything. He didn’t punch her, just, shoved and maybe slapped her a few times. It never fazed her, though.”

Dick’s eyes were glued to mine, and he was tense, like he was being held at gunpoint, waiting for me to pull the trigger and hit him with whatever it was I was protecting him from.

“But when mom had to move, it hit him really, really hard. He started drinking, or, drinking _more_ I guess. He was gone on jobs more—we needed the money to pay mom’s bills. We had to fend for ourselves a lot, which was why Cheshire got that job bussing tables.” I bit my lip. “But just because he was gone more, didn’t mean things were better. He’d always said I needed to toughen up, that even though Jade was a little _bitch_ she could at least defend herself. He got really frustrated that I never fought him on anything, I think it helped him cope with mom, to fight all the time.

“It made— _makes_ —him feel like he’s doing something other than lying around, waiting for her to die. I think I’m a lot like him in that way; I always feel better doing something swift and harsh than being any kind of passive.”

Dick seemed less than pleased with this connection I drew between mine and my father’s personalities, probably because he couldn’t refute it. As much as I hated to admit it, I _was_ a lot like him in a lot of ways. Unfortunately, the traits we had in common were some of the things I hated most about him.

“You know you’re better than him though, right?”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know if that was necessarily true. “He started hitting me, too. And he hit _hard_. He had never hurt me before—he always treated me pretty well in comparison to my sister— and I wasn’t as used to it back then, even a paper cut used to make me all teary-eyed.” I laughed dryly. “Cheshire hated him more for what he was doing to me than to her. But as strong as she was, she wasn’t strong enough to actually take him on. So, she decided we were going to run away.

“He’d been on a job for two days, and he wasn’t supposed to come back for a few more, so she was packing us a suitcase, and I was scared, I didn’t know where we were supposed to go, or how we were even getting there,” I ran my hands through my hair. “She said he was never going to touch us like that again, and we were almost done packing, when we heard him down the hall,”

An array of emotions were bubbling up inside me, and though I knew it’d be difficult, I never realized _how_ difficult it’d be to talk about what happened to my sister. I swallowed, and I had to put effort into steadying my voice. “So she locked the door, and she took out that switchblade, I asked her where she got it but she didn’t tell me. Our window, it was painted shut so she had to cut it open, and then” I swallowed again.

“She told me to climb out, and then he broke the door in, that’s why it doesn’t close right anymore,” Dick took my hand and squeezed. I made eye contact with him long enough to see he was scared to see where this story ended. “And she made a dive for our suitcase, and he caught her ankle, she kicked him in the nose and got out, and she kept yelling at me to climb down so I did, and he caught her again and she hit his nose again,”

I stopped talking and closed my eyes, pressing my free hand to my head. I didn’t wanna talk anymore.

“Artemis, what happened to her?” his voice was so quiet, so tentative, if I told him I wanted to stop he would have let me. But if I stopped it’d just be harder to finish later.

“She told him she was taking me and leaving, and he hit her, and the railing broke and…god I can still see the look on her face.” Hot tears burned at my eyes and I had to blink to make the stinging go away. “It was loud, like a gunshot, when her head hit the ground,”

“Why…why isn’t he in _jail_?” he sounded horrified, and when I peeked at him from beneath my eyelashes I could see it in his face.

“Because we lied about what happened. Everyone else thinks she just fell,” Dad had made me lie to the police, and I was so scared I didn’t argue, and for once he didn’t care that I didn’t fight back.

He looked like he was about to explode, and I knew exactly how he felt. While he might’ve understood my initial lie, he could never have understood why I continued to lie for my father, or why I still lived with him after he caused the death of my sister.

He wanted to tell me to leave, to run away like Cheshire had wanted, to get the hell out of that apartment and as far from my father as was physically possible.

“You promised me you wouldn’t freak out,” I reminded him gently, blinking my vision clear.

“I-“ he took a deep and shaky breath. “How can you stand to…to _live_ with him?” his voice cracked.

“Because, I…I can’t leave,”

“But he _murdered_ her!” he didn’t yell but he wanted to, so much.

“No, he…he didn’t, it was an accident,” he opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off before he had the chance. “He didn’t mean for her to fall, Dick, it was an accident, and I know it doesn’t make any sense to you, I _know_ that but to me, he caused her death but he didn’t _murder_ her,”

He looked furious, and it caused me physical pain to know that it was my fault he was making a face like that. “What’s the difference?”

“To me there is, Dick, he’s not the best person in the world, but he’s still my father, I can’t think he murdered her, Dickie, I just can’t think that, I don’t know if I could _deal_ with it,” The stability in my voice was waning and tears stung at my eyes again.

“He’s a monster, Artemis,” His voice cracked again and the anger slid from his expression, burned in his eyes.

“But he’s my _father_ , I don’t like him, and I don’t love him, but somewhere in my fucked up head that still _means_ something, I don’t know why, it just does, and please, _please_ don’t judge me for that or try to change it because I _can’t_ think he’s a murderer okay? I just can’t do it, Dick I _can’t_ ,” Tears were streaming down my face, and I wished to god I could stop them.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Artemis, I’m sorry,” he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and I buried my face into his shoulder, fighting back sobs. “I don’t get it, you’re right, but if it makes sense to you then that’s good enough for me,”

I locked my arms around the little bird and regretted everything I’d just told him, praying and wishing and hoping I could somehow undo it. He reacted exactly how I knew he would, and now he was no doubt afraid for me, thinking I was living in the same apartment as a cold-blooded killer. “I don’t want you to think less of me,”

“I don’t,” and he meant it. That was the great thing about Dick; he was always honest with you. “Please don’t cry anymore,”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I pulled away from him reluctantly and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “We should— _you_ should—go to sleep, there’s school in the morning and I don’t want you to be falling asleep in class because of me, it’s already late,”

He watched me carefully for a minute, before nodding. “Ok,”


	17. The Chocolate Bar Incident

We stayed on the couch the rest of the night, always with one of us right on top of the other. I didn’t sleep nearly as soundly as I had when he first came over, and I tossed and turned until Dick roused for school in the morning.

“You look like hell, baby bird,” I pushed my hair out of my face, and looked up at him from where I was still sprawled out on the couch.

“I feel like it, too,” he scrubbed his face with his hands and yawned. “You were moving around a lot last night,”

I flushed, oops. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve just had you sleep in Jade’s bed,” I sat up slowly and leaned back on the hand that wasn’t rubbing my eyes.

Discomfort flitted across his face and I felt a pang in my chest. “It’s fine, really,” he took a step away from the couch and wobbled a little.

“Whoa,” I found myself grabbing onto his waist to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” He smiled at me and I let go of him. “Can I, um, use your shower?”

“If you’re brave, yeah,”

He laughed a little and disappeared into my less than pristine bathroom.

When he eventually came back out of the bathroom, all shiny and clean, he sat down to a subpar breakfast I had made him. We sat in tense silence, until he finally left for school with a promise to come back later.

After taking my own shower, I spent the rest of the day agonizing over how stupid I was, and how badly I needed to apologize, to make it go away.

It was childish, that I believed I could actually make the whole situation go away with an apology. It’d never go away; Dick knew my dirty little secret. My _father’s_ dirty little secret. Honestly, it wasn’t something that could be apologized for, anyway.

Regardless, I had a big, long ‘I’m sorry’ worked out for when he walked back through my front door.

However, I didn’t plan on Jason being with him. And my big speech escaped my mind as soon as I heard his loud, angry, profane voice on the other side of my door.

I got up off the couch, adjusting the Superman t-shirt that Dick had worn the night before (I had pilfered it from his bag after my shower—I felt better being able to smell him, creepy as it sounded) and opened the door. Jason shoved past me, followed by an apologetic looking Dick.

“Sorry—he kind of made me bring him, he already had clothes packed when I met him at his school. He planned ahead,” the little bird frowned when Jason turned to throw him a glare. I shut the front door and locked it.

“Because you _bitches_ ditched me yesterday! And because of your stupid ‘no fighting Jack’ rule and _her_ not being there to back me up I got a fucking shiner!” He wasn’t exaggerating, his eye was a little swollen and his skin was an ugly shade of purple. I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest, not having realized, or even considered, that he would need back up.

“How hard did he hit you?” my eyes widened a little. “What happened?”

“I’ve been asking he won’t tell me,” Dick was exasperated and very concerned.

“He cornered me in our room. Son of a bitch came in, closed the fucking door and cornered me, and since I’m not allowed to fight the asshole he got me in the eye and gave me some bullshit threat, too.” he snarled, tossing his bag on the floor and pulling his hood back on when it fell off.

“Sorry, Jay, I’ve been sick,” I pulled his hood back off to get a better look at his eye. The bruise didn’t look out of place on his rough, young face. “You tell John and Maggie?”

“No. I’m no fucking snitch.” He crossed his arms defensively and glared at me. He winced slightly, probably feeling that glare more than he would’ve liked.

“You said he threatened you right?” I gave him a hard look, and his glare wavered for a moment. “Jay, what’d he say?”

He bit his lip. “He…threatened Dick, said he’d fuck him up real bad if I told John or Maggie.”

I heard Dick swallow from beside me, and I frowned. Jack’s threats were nothing if not believable, and Dick’s reaction told me he felt the same. A large part of me was suddenly thankful that Jason _wasn’t_ a snitch, and that he was willing to take a beating to protect my little bird. A smaller part of me felt horrible, because I was willing to _let_ Jason, who was younger and smaller—though not necessarily more vulnerable— _take_ that beating. In the back of my mind, I wondered what kind of person was willing to sacrifice a kid like that—even one as tough and smart as Jason.

“Hoodie you don’t have to protect me!” His voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Yeah I do, ya idiot. It’s not like you’d defend yourself!” the pickpocket fisted his hands at his sides.

“Jason-” Dick started to speak, but I cut him off.

“He’s right, you don’t have to protect him because _I_ will. I told him if he touched either of you again I’d end him.” I had to fight to keep from grinding my teeth.

“No! No way! You’re both being, ridiculous! You don’t have to fight for me or protect me I’m not _fragile_!” he clenched his fists.

Jason and I sighed simultaneously. I opened my mouth to speak and the little bird covered it with his hand.

“No. We’re done talking about this. No fighting. End of conversation.” He gave me a serious look and I sighed again, nodding. “Good.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“This apartment is a piece of shit.” Jason broke the short silence with his usual grace.

“Jay!” Dick looked mortified at his foster brother’s lack of tact.

“Relax, Dickie, he’s right. It’s a crappy apartment.” I shrugged, thankful Jason had changed the subject and distracted Dick. We’d both been lectured dozens of times about getting into fights for the bird’s sake, but ultimately, if it came down to respecting Dick’s wishes or protecting him, we’d always choose the latter—even if it meant being suspended, moved to another foster home, or anything else for that matter. It was one thing the two of us could actually agree on, though we’d never expressed this out loud.

“Better than where _I_ was livin’, though,” he looked around, pale green eyes criticizing everything.

“Where did you live, anyway?” I’d never asked, but I was struck with sudden curiosity. I wasn’t exactly living in an upscale place, so, what could he have possibly been comparing it to?

“Crime Alley.”

“Oh,” I blinked dumbly. I supposed I should’ve expected that.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, surprise surprise. Anyway, I’m spendin’ the night. And I’m eating your food.” He stomped over to the fridge, and I remembered that I had wanted to talk to Dick.

“Dick, um,” He looked at me in question, and after a moment of awkward silence, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the couch, where I sat down in front of him. “About last night…” I continued softly, not wanting Jason to start attacking me with questions about what exactly _had_ happened last night. “I’m sorry, for putting that on you, and for freaking out,”

“Artemis,” he stopped me and I shut my mouth instantly. “It’s okay, really, I did a lot of thinking today, a _lot_ , and, I kinda get it. If it’d been my family, I’d… I wouldn’t be able to hate my dad, you know? There’s more to it than being a good or bad person, it’s not black and white for you,” I appreciated that he understood that, but the way he said it meant it was still black and white for him, no shades of grey, despite his newfound understanding.

“And though it doesn’t make really _any_ sense to me, cause honestly our dads are _totally_ different, and it probably never will, I know it does to you. And, if you say he’s not like that, if you believe he’s not a…” the word ‘monster’ was on the tip of his tongue, and I could see him debating whether or not to say it aloud. “Well, anyway, that’s good enough for me.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat, and worried I was going to cry again or something equally ridiculous, I threw my arms around the little bird and pulled him close, which inadvertently landed him in my lap. I decided not to care and buried my face in his shoulder.

“You’re way too good to me, you know that?” I mumbled, overwhelmed with relief and trying my best not to let it show. It was likely I was failing.

“It’s because I love you,” he sighed dramatically and hugged me back.

I threw my head back and laughed, and just like that everything felt good again. Dick was so forgiving, and impossibly understanding. He was a bleeding heart to say the least, and though I knew it’d get him into trouble one day, I adored that about him. “And my _god_ do I love you too,” I pecked his cheek.

“Hey! You’re sick remember?” he squirmed out of my lap, though his legs still remained across my thighs, and crossed his arms in a pout.

I laughed again and Jason could be heard groaning from the kitchen. “Would you two get a damn room already? Fuckin’ Christ.”

“Kiss my ass and get out of my fridge you little brat.” I shot him a look.

“Hey can I have this?” He revealed the lone candy bar that had been on the top shelf of my refrigerator.

“No! Absolutely not.”

“Oh, okay.” After a moment of intense, taunting eye-contact, he peeled back the wrapper, and bit into it. He was staring me down the whole time. “Mmm, chocolate.” He chewed slowly and was sure to emphasize how much he enjoyed it.

“You little shit, that’s mine!” it was the only chocolate bar left, bought with some of the precious few dollars I had left from working the previous summer. I jumped to my feet and went after him, and he placed the island counter between us.

“Come and get it, bitch!” he grinned, and there was chocolate in his teeth.

I faked left and then ran right, and he dodged my hand when I reached for him. “Come here you little—hey!” he shoved past me and picked up the wooden spoon that was still sitting in the dish drainer from the night before.

“Mmm, this is _sooo_ good,” he took another bite, smirking the whole time. I took a fast step forward and he raised the spoon threateningly, the end pointing right at my nose. “Stay back, I _will_ fuck you up with this,”

He looked and sounded so perfectly serious that it was comical. I tried my best to keep a straight face, I really did, because I was definitely still annoyed that he’d stolen my chocolate bar. I’d been saving that for almost two weeks.

But when I heard Dick’s gremlin cackle behind me I lost it and burst into a fit of laughter myself. “That’s not scary at _all_ , Jay,” he snickered.

“Shut the hell up!” he flushed and I snorted. “It’s a fucking _spoon_ it ain’t supposed to be!”

“We know,” I composed myself just enough to put a mocking tone behind my next comment. “But you’re just so cuuute!” I grinned when I saw the muscles in his jaw clench.

“Shut up!” he smacked my arm—though not especially hard—with the spoon.

“Ow! Hey!” I glared at him but it was ruined by my extremely amused expression, and rubbed the now sore spot on my arm.

“Jason! Don’t hit Artemis!” Dick crossed his arms and shot Jason a look from his spot on the couch.

My mood was much lighter after the chocolate bar incident. It took a few minutes but Dick finally managed to resolve the petty fight between Jason and me, forcing the red-head to give me half. He then declared it was time to eat some real food, and proceeded to make us all toast. I sat at the counter beside Jason while Dick worked his magic in the kitchen, gnawing on my chocolate and giving him mockingly displeased looks because of his insistence that he do it without help.

He had refused to let me help—saying I’d get my germs all over our make-shift dinner.  Jason had agreed loudly, and I’d punched his shoulder.

It was well past ten at night when I helped Dick carry a sleeping Jason from the couch where the three of us had watched a movie in a tangled mess of a blanket, to Jade’s vacant bed. I watched the little bird tuck the black comforter around the younger boy, thinking it looked like something that was extremely natural for him to be doing. It probably was, if the way he took care of me was anything to go by.

“G’night Hoodie.” He ruffled Jason’s hair, and the pickpocket grumbled in his sleep.

My face was buried in Dick’s chest and my legs were wrapped around one of his when he finally spoke again. “Why didn’t you get mad at Jason for coming over?”

“Whadaya mean Dickie-bird?” I exhaled, playing with the fabric of the tattered blanket he’d pulled over my shoulders.

“Whenever I come here you get mad, and tell me I shouldn’t be here—that I’m not allowed. Why didn’t you get mad at Jay?”

Honestly, I hadn’t realized that I reacted differently to Jason coming over than I had to Dick. I didn’t think twice about having him come inside, granted it was strange to have the little brat in my apartment, but I wasn’t overly concerned like I usually was with Dick. “I…I don’t know,”

“Well…it’s kind of a double standard you know.” He joked lightheartedly. I could hear more than see the smile.

“Yeah, well,” I shifted a little bit. “I guess I’m just not as worried about him, I mean I know he’s younger, but…I don’t feel like I have to protect him like I do you.”

He sighed and I felt a little guilty. “You guys don’t give me any credit. I’m not as weak as you think,” he sounded dejected.

“No, Dickie,” I lifted my head and propped myself up on my arm, looking down at his face. His eyes found mine and I continued. “We don’t think you’re weak.”

“Obviously you do. You’re always trying to protect me like I’m breakable,” he frowned. “Jason’s almost three years younger than I am, it shouldn’t be that way. I should be protecting _him_ ,”

“It’s not like that,” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “It’s just…we love you, a lot. And you, you’re so… _nice_. You’re sweet, Dick, and you take care of us, make us feel like we matter. And that means the world to us. We just don’t want anything to ruin that, ruin _you_.”

He looked touched, if not a little embarrassed. “That doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

I kissed his forehead. “I know, and I’m sorry, baby bird.” I rested my forehead against his. “But all it means is that we care about you.”

“Not each other?” he looked into my grey eyes questioningly. There was a hint of sadness in his question.

“I can’t speak for the brat, but I do care about _him_. Just not in the same way.”


	18. Seeing What Jason Sees

It was Friday.

_Finally_.

The weekend had practically started, and so Jason was slightly less angry when Dick shook him awake that morning. “Hoodie, come on, time to get up.”

“F’ck off Grayson.” He swatted at the air, not bothering to open his eyes and actually aim for his target.

“Jay come on, I don’t wanna make Artemis wait when she gets here.” He shook Jason again, and the red head groaned.

“Fine!” Jason sat up and threw his hands in the air in a dramatic fashion, glaring daggers when Dick smiled at him in satisfaction. The older boy left the room, knowing that he’d won the battle.

Jason threw his blankets aside after the door had been closed and stripped down to his boxers—he’d never be caught _dead_ in tighty-whiteys—before pulling on a hooded t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Artemis was meeting them at the front door to walk them to school, which for the most part made Jason all kinds of agitated. Truthfully, though he didn’t hate the blonde, and identified with her on some level, he didn’t much care for her. She was annoying and snarky and always _around_. The only reason he put up with her, and, he suspected, the only reason she put up with _him_ , was for Dick’s sake. She was his friend or ‘sister’ as Dick liked to put it (Jason was pretty sure they’d had sex, and more than once) and frankly, she was tough.

Since he’d met Dick almost two years before that day, he’d gotten really, really protective of him. It wasn’t because he had mushy feelings towards the guy—he wasn’t especially affectionate—it was because Dick was always getting ragged on. Even by their foster brothers. And if there was one thing Jason _wasn’t_ , it was a bystander. He hated seeing people abuse their strength and using it to hurt other people for no reason. Dick wasn’t pathetic, but he was no fighter, which made him easy pickings for pricks like Sam and Seth and especially Jack.

It was for _that_ reason that Jason was protective of him, and it was because Dick was strong that Jason respected him.

The reason he actually _liked_ him was something else entirely. _That_ was because Dick stuck by him, and was patient and nice and even _accepting_. He’d never known someone who was loyal to him that way, who didn’t ditch him the first chance they got. It was strange, at first, _really_ strange. He’d never really had a friend before, not one that he actually felt like he could count on.

He sighed, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He ran his fingers through his fire-red hair to tame it, though it was a mostly useless attempt. His bare feet fell heavily on the steps as he walked down and to the kitchen, where Maggie had whipped up scrambled eggs for the boys to fight over.

A few well-placed rib shots and a barely contained curse word later, Jason had managed to fill a plate with eggs, and he even got a piece of half eaten toast. He didn’t need or want it, it was just entertaining to see the look on Sam’s face when Jason had grabbed it off his plate and licked it. After slipping his shoes on, he brought his breakfast out onto the front stoop and sat cross-legged on the concrete, leaning against the black metal railing.

It was a nice day, and he could actually see the sun despite the clouds and ever present smog. He exhaled, closing his eyes a moment to listen to the sounds of his city, the wailing of sirens in the distance and the angry honking of car horns. Even the occasional bird.

When Dick had first moved into the house, into Jason’s room—he was _not_ happy about that, initially anyway—he had complained about all the noise in the city. Dick didn’t like the sirens or the horns, or the screaming of angry neighbors and the general noises of discontent that ruled Gotham both day and night. Something about how it reminded him how far he was from home. Jason never understood that, since Dick had never _had_ a consistent home, anyway. Besides, Jason wasn’t sure he could even sleep without the angry lullaby Gotham provided.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt something soft and flimsy come down hard on his head. “What the f-!” he bit his tongue, knowing Maggie was still in earshot, and glared daggers at the offending object, which, as it turned out, was that stupid trucker hat Artemis sometimes wore.

“Wake up, sunshine.” She looked down at him, looking pleased with herself. Bitch.

“You look gross.” He spat. It wasn’t true, her appearance was no more annoying and repulsive then it had been any other day. Except maybe a few weeks back when she was sick. She looked extra disgusting then.

“Aw, thanks, Jay.” She bit out sarcastically. “Where’s Dickie-bird?” Straight to the point, that was another thing about her he didn’t mind.

“Inside, probably combing his hair so he can look pretty for ya,” he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and continued to give her an assortment of his favorite dirty looks.

She rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her painfully boney hips. They weren’t especially noticeable, since her t-shirt had some give that day, but it was the tight denim shorts that gave her away. The first time he’d seen her in a bathing suit, he’d thought she looked like a skeleton with plastic wrap stretched over it. She didn’t look as bad as some of the girls that had lived near him in crime alley, and he knew she had access to food, so it wasn’t like she was starving. She was just naturally thin with no appetite or muscle to speak of.

It wasn’t like he really cared, or anything. It was her own damn fault she looked like that. Still, it hurt him to look at her. “Here.” He chucked Sam’s toast at the blonde, who caught it clumsily, clearly surprised. “It’s Sam’s, I took it to piss him off. Don’t want it though so I’m pawning it off on you.”

“Wow, thanks I feel so loved,” she rolled her eyes, though it was pretty obvious she was smiling, too. “Thanks though.” She bit into it, and Jason smirked to himself, because even though she probably wouldn’t give a damn, _he_ at least though it was funny he’d licked it.

“Whatever, blondie.” He shoveled the last crumbs of food into his mouth and stood to bring his plate back inside, leaving his backpack on the ground.

“I’ll take it, I wanna see what’s keeping Dickie, anyway.” She snatched his dishes from him, and he sat back down.

“Good, it’ll be good practice for when you’re a waitress for the rest of your life.” She kicked him in the shin as she went inside. “OW! You stupid f-…!” It was _really_ pissing him of that he couldn’t cuss her out like he wanted. Even worse that she smirked back at him because she knew _why_. Instead he settled for muttering about what a bitch she was in place of screaming it like he normally would.

His eyes were locked on the door, so he wasn’t surprised when it opened, just that it opened so soon. No way she’d already found Dick.

“Well well, if it isn’t the dog.” Jack’s voice. It was nasally, erratic and a little high-pitched. His thin lips stretched into a wide grin, showing off oversized yellow teeth. It looked like his face might crack if it got any bigger.

“Get gone, O’Keery.” Jason hissed, unconsciously tensing the muscles in his body. Jack wasn’t especially strong or intimidating physically, he was tall, freakishly tall, and thin. Not like Artemis, he wasn’t malnourished. He was just built that way. But Jason still felt his skin crawl when the creep was near him.

Jack wasn’t much to look at, but he was smart. He knew how to manipulate people. People like John and Maggie and his social worker. He had already convinced the three people who had the most control over Jason’s fate in the system that he was trouble, that it was _him_ who started fights and not Jack, that Jack was a misunderstood kid who couldn’t do any real harm.

Jason knew better.

“Or what, you’ll sink your puppy teeth into me?” he laughed, nasally and erratic like his speaking voice, but worse. It sounded like pieces of broken glass were scraping against the inside of his throat. It made Jason wince. “You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds,”

“You _don’t_ feed me you freak.” What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

“Oh, right, let me rephrase.” He made a show of clearing his throat. “You shouldn’t bite the hand that could easily choke the life out of poor, innocent little Dickie if it gets mad,” he laughed again.

Jason ground his teeth, reminding himself over and over what was at stake if he should give into his overwhelming desire to break Jack’s long skinny nose. He had to think. Think about how he didn’t want to be sent away. He didn’t want to go to juvie. He didn’t wanna be separated from Artemis, and definitely not from Dick.

_Think about it, Todd. Don’t be a fucking idiot._ “Leave him alone.” _He’s garbage. He’s not worth fucking up what you’ve got going here._

“Or _what_?” Jack’s tone was dangerously low, and his eyes narrowed. They were green, he’d had Jack in his face enough to know that. But it was especially noticeable with his face tilted downward like that, shadows blackening the hollows of his eyes. “What’s the little puppy gonna do?”

Jason stood, and though it still left him a good foot shorter than Jack, he _felt_ at least a little bigger. “You don’t wanna know, _Jackie_.” He put as much venom into his voice as he could manage without spitting on the lanky freak in front of him. “So don’t push me.”

“Don’t _push_ you? I wouldn’t _dream_ of it.” That grin never left his face and god if that didn’t make him all the more intimidating.

Jason’s stomach was in knots, and he barely managed to keep eye contact when Artemis cleared her throat from the doorway. “Back off, Jack.” How she managed to sound more dangerous than himself was something that always irked him.

“Ohhh the puppy’s back-up is here!” Jack stood straight again, turning his grin on Artemis and Dick, who was standing just behind her. “You gonna save the little bitch?”

Artemis moved to Jason’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. He glared up at her, she was not helping. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” her stormy grey eyes were still focused on Jack.

“I like it riiight here,” he frowned. “Unless you’re trying to kick me out,”

“Just go, Jack.” That was Dick, and Jason nearly got whiplash he shifted his glare so fast. “Don’t start trouble.” He wasn’t trying to sound dangerous like the other three people present, he just sounded like he was frustrated.

“Whatever you say, Dickie-bird,” He grinned again and Jason barely contained his shudder.

The giant turned from them, and stepped down to the sidewalk without a single sound, and again Jason was uneasy. No one should move that quietly— _especially_ that sociopathic creep. It’d be far too easy for him saunter into Jason and Dick’s room in the middle of the night and slash their throats. An image of Jack standing over him in the dark, moonlight catching the edge of a knife, probably Artemis’ switchblade for the sake of some sick irony filled his mind’s eye. He could even hear the dry, throaty sounds that would be Jack trying to keep that laugh behind his crooked teeth.

“What I wouldn’t give to make good on my threat and _actually_ end him.” Artemis muttered furiously, eyes glued to Jack’s shrinking figure.

“Even if you could, you wouldn’t and even if you would, which I sincerely doubt, I wouldn’t let you so _stop_ , please,” Dick looked at her with those damn puppy dog eyes that always got Jason to share when Dick asked him something personal.

She huffed and gave him a reassuring half-smile, before they both turned to Jason. “You okay, Jay?” Artemis squeezed his shoulder to get his attention. He blinked and looked at her, before shifting his eyes to his concerned foster brother. He shrugged her hand off and crossed his arms.

“Fine. Just the usual bull from him. Can we just go?” he retrieved his backpack from the ground and they nodded, exchanging unsure glances. “I’m _fine_ , seriously there ain’t nothin’ wrong.” He stomped away and he heard them follow after him, Dick shouting a goodbye into the house first.

Artemis had put that stupid trucker hat back on, pulling her ponytail through the back and he couldn’t help but think how much he’d like to throw that thing away when she wasn’t watching. Of course, her reaction wouldn’t be any fun, because that hat had been her sister’s or something, so like the switchblade she was insanely fond of it. He never understood that, it’s not like Jade was just gonna pop out of it one day like a rabbit being pulled out of a magician’s hat. Same with the blade—because although he agreed it had value and was worth holding onto it was for entirely different reasons. Because again, it’s not like Jade was gonna materialize out of the hilt.

Sentimentality made _no_ sense to him.

“So what’s the plan today, are we getting ice cream? Going to the park? Are you taking us up to Amusement Mile? It is Friday and all and it’d be a good time to walk around down there and check out the shops and the docks and stuff. Or maybe you’re going to take us on a new and exciting adventure?” Dick was walking backwards in front of Artemis, waggling his eyebrows at the prospect of a new and exciting adventure, doing jazz hands at about the height of her chest.

Jason wondered if Dick was going to try and cop a feel—because really, if there was one area where Artemis was gifted it was there. But he didn’t, instead she high-fived both his hands and smirked at him. “You’ll have to wait and see baby bird.”

“But Artemiiis!” he whined, putting on his best pout.

She rolled her eyes. “Look ahead before you walk into something. Besides, the view from behind is _way_ more appealing.” She teased, making a point of ogling Dick’s ass when he turned around, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

“Sometimes I think you only love me for my body,” he sighed dramatically and Jason resisted the urge to vomit.

How two people could be _so_ into each other and _so_ clueless was beyond him. They had the weirdest relationship ever. They were constantly flirting and touching and sharing their _feelings_ , but in all seriousness he knew they weren’t sleeping together or having dirty make-outs when he wasn’t around. They literally thought they were like brother and sister. It made _no_ sense to him. Dick _clearly_ wanted to jump her bones. He talked about her enough. More than enough. _Too_ much, for Jason’s liking.

“It’s true, I _do_ only love you for your body. It’s just so awesome I barely even register there’s a person in there most days.” She smirked when he laughed, falling in step with her and Jason. “But I have no idea what to do today. Whatever you want I guess.”

“We should go downtown. I like lookin’ at the boats in the harbor.” Jason offered, not making eye contact.

“Well you cuss like a sailor, it only makes sense you secretly wanna be one.” Artemis joked, and Dick gasped dramatically.

“Captain Todd!” he grinned and it stretched from ear to ear. “You’d be the fiercest pirate on the seven seas!” he could barely contain his excitement and Jason groaned.

“You are so fucking _annoying_. Why do I even bother with you jackasses?” he plowed on ahead and they snickered behind him.

“Because you _looove_ us, obviously,” Artemis scoffed.

“Like hell!” he shot back, and Dick laughed again.

“Blasphemy, Captain Todd!”

“Shut _up_ , you’re such a dumbass, _Dick_.” He glared back at the pair over his shoulder. Dick was practically skipping he was so excited about this ‘Captain Todd’ crap.

“Artemis he’s being mean to me!”

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Jason muttered, facing forward again to hide the fond smile that had appeared on his face.

They _were_ annoying, definitely. They drove him nuts with their sexual tension and flirting and whining and _feelings_ , but they weren’t the worst people in the world. He could do without Artemis, but in all honesty they were better together, as a constant stream of obnoxious humor and teasing and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Except maybe for a World War Two era Ka-Bar—those things were _so_ badass.


	19. The Inevitable

The news of my mother’s death came in late June, on one of the rare days during summer vacation that I was home alone instead of out and about with Dick and Jason, though I had plans to spend the night with them later on. It was a phone call, in the middle of the day, and the woman on the other end gave an apology that sounded hollow, and asked how she could reach my father. I told her I’d tell him and that he’d call her back shortly, before hanging up.

I wasn’t nearly as sad as I thought I’d be, and I guess it was because part of me hadn’t been surprised. She’d been doing alright for a little while after dad’s Christmas visit, but around mid-February she’d taken a turn for the worst. It had only been a matter of time.

I shut my eyes a moment, letting out a slow, deliberate breath, and picked up the phone again, dialing dad’s emergency number. When he was on a job, I was essentially forbidden to call him unless it was _really_ important, and I’d never even thought to, anyway. But, I figured this would be important enough.

“What do you want, little girl, I _told_ you not to call me unless—”

“Mom’s dead.” And he stopped. The line was silent, and I counted out sixty-seven seconds before he finally spoke.

“What happened?” his tone was stone cold, and completely flat.

“The disease finally got her, the nurses checked on her this morning and she was cold. They pronounced a half hour ago. They want you to call, probably to make arrangements for the body.” My voice matched his, and I stared at the crack in the paint on the opposite wall.

Forty-three seconds passed. “I’ll call them; I’ll be home by tomorrow.”

Thirty-five seconds passed. “Ok, I’ll see you then,”

Fifty-two seconds passed. “Goodbye, Artemis.”

Fifteen seconds passed. “Goodbye, dad.”

I placed the phone back in its cradle on the kitchen counter, and stared at it a moment. It was a surreal sort of moment, and I could hear all the groans of the building, the rhythmic ticking of the clock. I didn’t feel any animosity towards dad, not even during his hostile greeting. He was just my father and I was his daughter and the only person we felt mutual love for had died. And both of us were stone cold.

Mom’s death was anti-climactic in comparison to my sister’s. Jade’s death had been so emotionally charged, so sudden and unexpected and quick, I’d never seen it coming. Mom…I knew she probably wouldn’t see me graduate High School, and I was right. I’d seen it coming miles away and years in advance. I expected it. I’d probably made peace with it years ago.

“Does that make me a bad person?” I was sitting on Dick’s bed, legs bent and my arms wrapped around them. I had wandered over there shortly after hanging up with dad, figuring I should probably give him and Jason the news. “That I just…I just expected it? Like somehow that makes it easier? Less sad?”

I felt Jason shift uncomfortably to my right. “No, it doesn’t.” he bit his lip. “I knew my mom was gonna die, too. It was bound to happen eventually, with a habit as bad as hers.”

“But you were sad?” I turned to look at him, and his pale green eyes were unfocused.

“Not right away, my first thought when I figured out she wasn’t breathing was somethin’ along the lines of ‘I wonder if I can move my stuff to this room. It’s way bigger than mine.’” He sounded a little ashamed. “Couple days later it hit me and I cried the first time.”

Dick hadn’t said much of anything once he realized that comfort wasn’t exactly what I was looking for. I don’t think he understood what Jason and I were talking about, because his parents died like Jade, suddenly, without any warning. Our mothers had been dying for years. He placed a hand on the back of my shoulder and rubbed small circles with his thumb.

“I just…I feel kind of guilty, you know? I should be balling my eyes out, I should be miserable, but I’m just…” I shrugged. “I’m nothing.”

“No, I get it.” Jason looked at me, empathetic. “But ya won’t stay that way.” I nodded and we broke eye contact.

“I think my dad feels the same.”

“Your dad? I thought he was on a job,” Dick raised an eyebrow, seeming a little relieved to be given an opening. He hated not being able to say anything, and in this situation he was just too uncomfortable to even begin to speak.

“After I got the call, I called him up to tell him. The woman from the care center asked me to. He was just…blank. He wasn’t angry or anything. He’s coming home early, by tomorrow he said.” I shrugged, looking at Dick. “I’m not even worried about it; I might even meet him there. He’ll probably need help planning the funeral. Not that anyone will go but us, mom doesn’t— _didn’t_ have many friends, and she didn’t have any family but us, either.”

“You want to meet him at home?” Dick tried his best to hide it, but his concern and disbelief bled through anyway. I think he found my behavior unsettling.

Twenty-three seconds passed. “I think so, yeah. Sorry, I know I said I’d spend the night tonight,” I gave him an apologetic look, and he shook his head.

“No, it’s…whatever you need, but if I don’t see you by the end of tomorrow I’m gonna come looking,” he gave me a determined, yet cautious look—but he was still frowning.

“Okay, um,” I stood, straightening out my t-shirt and grabbing my hat from Dick’s nightstand. “I’ll see you guys, then. Thanks for…” I looked at Jason and then away, and then back again.

“No problem.” He answered, nodding his head. “Good luck with your dad.”

I snorted and grinned. “Yeah, thanks.” I smiled at Dick. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, but worry was still clearly etched in his face.

I left with a half-hearted wave.

Dad got home that night, and I’d made pasta for dinner. I was sitting on the couch, not eating it, when he came in without a word, shut the door behind him, and unceremoniously dropped his duffle bag by the door. I could hear the muffled clink of metal from inside of it, and there were a couple of reddish brown stains forming on the outside of the bag.

I pretended I didn’t know what they were from.

“Dinner’s on the stove. Do you want to watch TV?” I looked at him, and his expression was blank. He removed his jacket and dropped it on top of his bag, before kicking off his muddy boots. It hadn’t rained in over two weeks, but I didn’t bother to ask where he’d been.

“Sure. What’s on?” his gruff voice came from the kitchen, where he was filling a bowl with pasta and dumping an unnecessarily large amount of parmesan cheese onto his dinner.

“The news, procedural dramas, soaps, or Judge Judy.” I flipped through the channels as I answered, and he dropped down next to me. He was massive, a behemoth of a man made of nothing but the solid muscle mass of a former Olympic athlete.

“Procedural dramas it is. They’ve got the least amount of bullshit.” He didn’t eat, either, instead settling back into the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Sure thing, Crusher.” I changed the channel one last time, and caught the barest hint of a smile on his face. When he’d been an Olympian, his nickname had been Crusher Crock. He’d always been fond of it, and I remembered my mother calling him that when we were all younger and happier. That was a long time ago.

We watched two episodes in complete silence—save for the occasional scoff when the dialogue got cheesy or the writers took a little too much artistic license, when I finally spoke again. “What do we do now?” I chanced a glance in his direction, and we made brief eye contact.

“Now, we bury her. I’ve got enough saved up for a proper casket, I figure we’ll put her next to Jade. She’d want that. Right?” he looked to me for confirmation, and I nodded.

“She’d definitely want that,” I ran a hand through my hair. “Dad…?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Do you…are you sad?” I bit my lip, not daring to look up.

“I’m…it was a long time coming, baby girl. I expected it.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. He hadn’t called me that in years, not since I was just a little kid. “Me too.” I fidgeted a little. “A friend of mine said it’d be like that for a little while.”

“What friend?” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Last I knew you didn’t have any.” It wasn’t a dig; it was just a statement, because as far as he knew, I _didn’t_ have any friends. And didn’t that say a lot about our relationship. Dick had been my best friend for over two years by then, and he didn’t even know.

“I do, now. Two, actually,” a dry smile found its way onto my face. The situation was so awkward and so comfortable at the same time. Dad and I were so alike in so many ways, and even though I hated it, sometimes that fact made things easier. Like in that moment, where even though it was sad that we knew nothing about each other and didn’t hold any affection for each other at all anymore, we still held onto the fact that we were father and daughter, as though that actually meant anything to either of us. It didn’t, though, and that was what made the situation awkward. We were filling roles that neither of us wanted to even acknowledge. But out of respect for mom, we maintained them anyway, despite the obvious animosity we felt towards each other, and despite the violent core of our relationship.

I wondered if that would change, now that she was dead.

The funeral was two days later. There was no wake, and I had been right about the attendance. It was just me, my father, and my stiff mother in her closed wooden casket. It wasn’t anything fancy, it was simple and functional, and honestly it was just her style. I smiled a little at that thought, and was internally glad no one was there to see me _smile_ at my mother’s funeral.

The service was held in the cemetery, and a pastor said a few words in her honor—that had been my idea. We weren’t exactly religious, I wasn’t even sure if I had a denomination, but it seemed appropriate, and my father didn’t see any reason to object. There was no eulogy, because, really, no one was there to hear it. It took less than an hour, and I watched blankly from my father’s side as the wooden box was lowered into the ground, where she would be buried right next to my sister.

I smoothed the skirt of my too-big black dress, and sighed, raising my eyes to stare at the tree that was up the hill, and my eyes landed on a feminine figure. The woman appeared to be watching the funeral, leaning casually against the tree. I wondered who she was there to visit when our pathetic excuse for a funeral had caught her attention. She seemed young, though I really couldn’t tell much about her from that distance. A part of me was glad she was there; if for nothing other than the illusion someone cared about mom other than me and dad.

I turned my attention back to the situation at hand, and realized that it was over. Mom was in the ground, though they hadn’t buried her yet. The pastor nodded to us, and we returned the gesture, before he offered his condolences and left us to ourselves. “Don’t they have to cover her up?” I looked up at my father, and he looked so tired.

“They will, by the end of the day.” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead, before shoving his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “I’m going home, you want a ride?” he glanced at me fleetingly.

“No, I’m going to stay a while. Don’t know when I’ll be home.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, and he nodded, patting me on the back before turning and leaving without so much as a goodbye.

I gave the headstones of Jade and my mother another glance before walking right past them and towards the woman I’d been watching only moments ago. She seemed to notice me coming, raising her head enough that I could see the face beneath the rim of her faded blue baseball cap, and I stopped to rub my eyes. She looked an awful lot like the women that were buried just a few feet behind me, and I wondered if I wasn’t imagining that one or both of them were standing there.

When I looked back up, she was gone, and my heart sank. I jogged up to the place where she’d been standing and looked around, but there was no one there.

There was _no one_ there.

A sob forced its way out of my throat despite my attempts to choke it down, and I slid into a sitting position in the shade of the tree, drawing my legs up to my chest and tilting my head back to rest against the bark. The leaves that fluttered in the breeze above my head looked like nothing more than splotches of color, so I shut my eyes tightly, and the water that had been obstructing my vision slid down my cheeks and along my jaw until I finally wiped it away.

Breathing was difficult all of a sudden, as my lungs had started to spasm in my chest. It was a little like hyperventilating, and I dropped my head forward so my chin nearly touched my chest, and buried my face in my hands.

And it occurred to me, as water continued to stream from my eyes, and air continued to catch in my throat, that I was crying. And I laughed a distorted laugh, because I was finally sad. It had taken the better part of fifty hours, ten minutes and thirty-five seconds, but I was finally sad, because there was no one there.

I was all alone.

It was sunny, and beautiful, and birds were chirping in the tree above me, and the grass and leaves were rustling in the warm summer breeze, and somewhere that I wasn’t, children were playing, and friends were laughing, people were getting married and having babies, getting their high school diplomas or college degrees, or driving in their brand new cars with the love of their lives, and I was alone.

My sister was in the ground, my mother was in the ground, and even though my father wasn’t he wasn’t _there_ , even when he was right next to me.  And even though I had Dick, who loved me so, so much and Jason, who understood me so well and maybe even cared a little, and even John and Maggie who always treated me so well, I felt isolated.

It was the worst feeling in the world.

“Artemis?”

“Hm?” the sound came out as more of a whimper, high pitched and shaky and pathetic, and I curled tighter around myself.

I could hear soft rustling beside me as he sat down, and I tried and failed to get a handle on my breathing when his strong arms wrapped me up and pulled me to his chest. “This is a stupid question, but are you alright?”

I laughed, and it sounded like I was choking. “You’re right, that is a s-stupid fucking question,” I hooked my shaking fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt sleeve, holding so tight my hand actually shook harder. “Bec-cause I’m not okay,”

“I figured,” he pressed a kiss into my hair, which was all kinds of disheveled thanks to the wind that day. “I know it doesn’t really help, but…I’m so sorry, Artemis. I know it sucks.”

It took a few minutes, but without Dick holding me while I sobbed like a baby it would have taken much longer to calm down. He didn’t once let go, and even though he couldn’t have been comfortable with me caved in over him he didn’t try to move. He just continued to pet my hair and whisper all the things I needed to hear, and give me something to hold on to.

“I really don’t know what I’d ever do without you, Dickie,” I pressed my face against his shoulder and laughed a broken laugh.

“Crash and burn,” he said with a sigh, and I when he pushed my hair out of the way and kissed the bare skin at the nape of my neck, I could feel that blinding smile I loved so much. A few moments passed, and he moved me into a sitting position, pressing his forehead to mine and cupping my cheeks with his hands. “I’m sorry I couldn’t actually be with you for the funeral,”

The day before, the day he said he’d come looking for me if he didn’t hear anything, I had finally remembered to call him up around seven at night, when he was apparently just about to walk out the door with an insistent Jason practically stepping on his heels. I told him about the service, when and where it was, and I also forbade his attendance. As civil as he’d been, having my dad actually meet Dick was still exceedingly low on my to-do list. Evidently, the little bird decided showing up after the fact to pay his respects to the woman he’d never met was just as good.

“It’s not like you had a choice, baby bird.” I sniffled and he wiped the tears from under my eyes with his thumbs. “Honestly your timing wasn’t too terrible, anyway,” I tried for a smile, and he hugged me again, resting my chin on his shoulder and winding my arms around his torso.

“I’m talented like that,” he squeezed me just a little tighter and I exhaled a long breath.

“Promise me something, Dickie?” I mumbled into the fabric of his t-shirt, eyes focused on the grass behind him.

“Anything in the world.” He said simply, and I laughed again.

“Just…promise you won’t ever leave me,” my voice cracked on the word promise, and I hunched my shoulders as much as he would allow.

And without letting even one second pass, he said: “I promise.”

“Thank you.” And I turned my face into him slightly, pressing my cheek and the side of my nose against his neck. Bits of his hair touched my lashes, making me blink a few times before I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, hands sliding down the back of his shirt and coming together at the small of his back. “I love you, Dick.”

“I love you too, Artemis.”

I sighed and the tension bled from my body, and save for a few involuntary hitches in my breathing, I was completely still.

And it was the best feeling in the world.

“We should probably go get Jason,” Dick sighed contentedly. “He went to go see his own mom while I found you.”

My gut twisted. I suppose I knew she’d be buried here, Dick’s parents were too. It was the only cemetery on the northern side of Gotham, closest to Crime Alley and probably the cheapest—which was why the Circus had buried the Grayson’s there. It was the best they could manage, but according to Dick every single member of the Circus was in attendance, performers, stage hands, and of course, Jack Haly himself.

“Okay,” reluctantly, I pulled away from him, my hands coming up his back, over his shoulders and down his arms, where we held each other’s wrists and hoisted ourselves to our feet. “Do you know where she is?”

He laced our fingers together and led me in what I assumed was the right direction. It was a little south of Jade and mom’s graves. “Yeah, I’ve come here with him a few times, when he misses her.”

“He does?” It sounded horrible but the way he acted, it didn’t really seem like he thought very highly of her. “I’m sorry, that was—”

“No, it’s okay. He’d probably rather you think like that. But,” he looked at me, “She meant the world to him. They were extremely close, and towards the end he took care of her as best he could.”

I faced forward and wiped at my eyes with my free hand. I had no idea that Jason actually cared for her, and it made me feel horrible, hearing that he’d been _taking_ care of her. He shouldn’t have had to, for one, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t resent her a little for putting that on his shoulders—my mother had to be taken care of, too, but she hadn’t made the _choice_ to be that way. I didn’t even know this woman’s name, let alone that she’d actually been close with her son.

How could she just _abandon_ him like that?

“Artemis?” Dick had stopped walking, and so had I, apparently.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Even to my own ears that didn’t sound reassuring. I was crying again. “Let’s just go find Jay, okay?”

He nodded and started moving again, and I kept my head down, having to continuously wipe my ever damp cheeks—if I wore make-up I’d look like a raccoon.

A little more walking and we came upon a headstone even more modest than the one, _ones_ , I visited there. In front of it, Jason was crouched down; arms folded across his thighs, looking at the name on the stone—Catherine Todd. Her name was Catherine.

“How you doin’, Hoodie?” Dick asked, looking down at his little brother.

The red head sighed. “Fine, I guess.” He stood and looked at Dick, and then me. “You look like shit,”

I laughed, but it still sounded wrong. Leave it to Jason to insult me when I was down. “You’re s-such a brat.” I cursed the letter ‘s’ for always catching in my mouth when I spoke.

He smirked, but it was playful, light-hearted, and then he frowned. “I…” And a second later his arms were wrapped tightly around my waist. “’’M sorry,” he mumbled. I could feel his breathing against my collar bone, and I gave Dick a surprise look, but he just shrugged, a fond smile gracing his features.

“Thanks, Jay,” I whispered back, letting go of Dick’s hand and folding my arms around the small frame of his shoulders, a hand resting on the back of his head. His hair was surprisingly soft. Not silky, like Dick’s, it was just as thick, though the texture was coarser, and up close it really was as red as fire.

He pulled away suddenly, as though it suddenly occurred to him that he was showing affection, because that was definitely against his moral code. But he didn’t negate it with a snide comment, just shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Can we go?” he turned his pale green gaze to Dick, who nodded.

“We just have to visit Jade and her mom, first,” the little bird looked at me. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I wiped my eyes again and he took my hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of mine. We started to move again, and in what seemed like a split second decision, Jason gripped my other hand, not daring to look me in the eye when I glanced at him in surprise. I gave his small hand a squeeze and some of the tension left his shoulders.

What a sight we must have been, Dick glued to my side while I wore an oversized hand-me-down dress and had tears smeared all over my face, eyes puffy and red, and then on my other side, Jason standing as far from me as possible while still maintaining his death grip on my hand. It probably would have raised a few eyebrows, had anyone been around.


	20. Unheard Apologies

After that day in the cemetery, dad was home for almost two weeks before he took another job, and in all that time he didn’t lay a finger on me. In fact, we barely spoke. It scared me, honestly. It was so unusual and after a day or so the novelty wore off, and I almost missed the yelling. It was too quiet.

The night after the funeral, I had declined Dick’s offer to sleepover on the basis that I needed some time to think. It was almost one in the morning, and the sound of glass breaking shocked me out of my exhausted haze and I shot up into a sitting position.

“Son of a _bitch_!”

“Oh no.” I sighed, tossing my blankets aside and pulling up the waistband of my spandex shorts and adjusting my borrowed Superman t-shirt—I’d stolen it from Dick a week or so previously. I scratched the back of my neck and trudged out of my bedroom, opting to exit through that bathroom instead of my own door. It was quieter that way and I didn’t want to draw any more attention than was necessary.

At the end of the hall, I placed my hands against the wall and peeked out into the kitchen where I could hear my father cursing. He was in the process of dumping pieces of a broken glass into the garbage can, a bottle of whiskey in his other hand. My heart sank. I hated it when he drank, even if I could understand why he would.

He was wearing a ratty old sweatshirt, one that he’d gotten a long time before Jade was born or even before he’d met my mother. It was from his Olympian days, and I doubted he’d ever throw it away. I’d always thought that one of the reasons he was so angry and just generally _frustrated_ was because he felt like he’d never feel the high he got from being a gold medalist. I felt for him on some level.

He leaned against the island counter, bottle still in hand and scrubbed a hand through his cropped blond hair. He was getting a bit grey at the temples—though at fifty-five it wasn’t unusual. “You were supposed to outlive me, baby.” His brown eyes were locked on the simple wedding band around his left ring finger. I didn’t even realize he still wore it. “You were never supposed to go like that.”

I closed my eyes for a moment to quell the stinging, and when I opened them again, he was taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle.

“It wasn’t supposed to go this way, baby. It was supposed to go so different,” he looked down at the bottle. “I was gonna make you happy, treat you right.” He turned around and tipped the bottle in his hand, pouring the contents down the sink.

I felt my eyes widen, this was…unsettling. I turned away from the kitchen, pressing my back to the wall I was leaning against. Then he said:

“I’m sorry, Paula,”

 And I sped back to my room as fast as I could without making a sound, reentering the same way I’d left. It was at a much slower pace that I pulled back the blankets of my bed and climbed back in, covering my head and staring at a small tear in my sheet. I drew my knees up to my chest, curling into a fetal position and releasing a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry too, mom.” Because I should have treated her better, and visited so much more. I should have introduced her to Dick, and to Jason—she would have loved his quick wit. I missed her so much, despite not really feeling like I had any right to in the first place. “I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked, and my eyes burned so much it felt like they might crack, too.


	21. The Fortress of...?

I spent the next several nights in Dick’s bed with him, and one night curled up on the floor in a cocoon with me and Jason on either side of him.

We even made a blanket fort, and sat under it eating marshmallows that Jason had swiped from the cabinet earlier that day when no one was looking. We got a lot of use out of Dick’s camera, too. My favorite photo was the two of them together, mouths near overflowing with all the marshmallows they’d crammed in them. Jason actually managed to eat them all at once, though how he accomplished that without spitting them all over the bottom layer of our fort was beyond me.

“It’s official, you’re a freak.” Dick declared light-heartedly while Jason licked his fingers.

“Just like you, ya circus brat.” He yelped when Dick punched him in the arm.

“That’s _Mister_ circus brat to you, kid.” He gave a cocky smirk and I rolled my eyes while Jason scoffed. “So are we gonna name this fort or what?” he looked between the two of us and I shrugged.

“If you want, I’m cool with just referring to it as The Blanket Fort.” For that I received horrified looks from both boys. Apparently it was—

“Blasphemy!”

“Why are you so obsessed with that god damned word all of a sudden?” Jason smacked his brother in the arm and Dick punched him back. “Ow! Cut it out!”

“It’s an _asterous_ word, that’s why.”

“And asterous ain’t a word.” Dick punched him in the arm. “ _Ow_!”

“Take that back!”

“Like hell!” Jason kicked the little bird in the shin.

“OW!” and in return Dick tackled Jason.

I laughed, reaching up to play with the charm of my necklace. “If you guys break the fort I’m _so_ not helping you fix it.” They ignored me and continued rolling around in the small space, trying to pin each other—the best part was that even though Jason was involved it was still all in good fun. The little thief was even laughing between battle cries, though that could have been because Dick was assaulting his rather ticklish sides with his fingers.

“S-stooop!” the red head whined, trying to wriggle his way out from under his brother.

“Yeah, yeah,” He ruffled Jason’s hair and stopped his attack, though he didn’t get up from where he was perched on the smaller boy’s lower back, legs crossed and both hands holding down his brother’s flailing legs.

“Get. _Off_!” he let out a noise of pretend anguish before dropping his head face first into the blanket beneath him, and going completely still.

“Oh god, Dickie, I think you may have killed him!” I reached for him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him in a dramatic fashion, for which I received a grin and one of his gremlin cackles.

“We should go through his stuff—I’ll split the goods with you.”

I laughed and leaned forward to rest my forehead against the little bird’s collar bone when Jason responded to his suggestion with a loud: “WHAT?” and a continuation of his earlier writhing.

Finally deciding Jason’s lower back wasn’t especially comfortable, Dick shifted off of him, crawling instead to the spot in front of me, wear he sat with his back to my chest, slouching enough that had he turned his head he would have been at eye-level with my chin. “Much better.” He gave a content sigh and took my hands, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah I’ll bet it is, she’s got _pillows_ on ‘er.” Jason grinned like a devil and pushed himself back to a sitting position. I took one of my hands away from Dick and reached into the near empty bag of marshmallows, taking one and swiftly chucking it in Jason’s direction. “OW! You hit me in the eye you—…you _jerk_!”

Dick cackled again, stretching his legs and resting his feet on Jason’s thigh. The pickpocket promptly shoved them away.

“I _will_ kill you, Blondie.” He pointed my former weapon at me threateningly before shoving it into his mouth and chewing harder than was necessary.

“Aww, I love you _too_ , Jay.” I placed a hand over my heart, which coincidentally was about where Dick’s face was, and so I actually ended up smacking him right in the nose.

He whined and swatted my hand away. “Artemiiis!”

Jason and I snickered. “Sorry, baby bird.”

“You _should_ be, it’d be a terrible thing to deprive the world of this face!” he reached up and gently stroked his cheek as though it was made of some precious metal. “My smile is worth _millions_ all on its own,”

“So, if I cut yer face off, I could sell it on the black market for big bucks?” Jason stated thoughtfully, eyeing the other boy.

“I’ll hold him down if you do the cutting,” I pressed my palms to either side of Dick’s face, holding him still.

“Whoa, there will be no cutting!” he squawked.

“Where’d ya put the switchblade?” his pale green eyes glittered with mischievousness, and his grin was pure, unadulterated evil.

“Guuuys!” I looked down at my captive to see he had put on his best puppy-dog eyes, and was splitting his pleading gaze between the two of us.

I admit, I was a sucker, because I immediately let him go and went back to hugging him around the shoulders. Jason was appalled by this development, going into an exaggerated rage about all the money we could have made and how we could have bought an island (“An _island_ , Blondie!”) and any number of other ridiculous things with the profits from Dick’s face.

Later on the three of us curled up together in the fort, Jason starting on the opposite side of us and ending up pressed against Dick’s side. With my arm tightly wrapped around my little bird’s torso, and our clasped hands squished between he and Jason while they slept. I felt more at peace then I had in what felt like years, when in reality it had been less than a week. I pressed the lower half of my face into Dick’s soft, disheveled hair and closed my eyes, while a large part of me wished I could stay there forever, and a bigger part reminded me that it wasn’t possible, and that eventually we’d all grow up and apart and away.

I did my best to cry quietly, not wanting to wake either of them. I pressed myself closer to Dick, and hooked one of the fingers that was between the two boys into the sleeve of Jason’s t-shirt, just to reassure myself that they were still there. I strained my ears to hear their out of sync heartbeats, and finally fell asleep, hours after they did, clinging to the simple fact that they were alive.


	22. The Guilt, Shame, and Self-Deprecation

It seemed like most of my days ended in tears—assuming they ended at all. I didn’t always sleep at night, so sometimes they meshed together. I was exhausted, mentally physically and emotionally, and sleep was so fleeting.

I figured that was probably the reason I kept seeing the woman from the cemetery.

Not constantly, not even a lot. Just a couple times here and there, and I had no way of even knowing if she was the same person or not, especially since the first sighting I had in the cemetery was probably a hallucination, anyway. The rest probably were, too, which is why I blamed her on my lack of sleep.

The third time I thought I saw her, I was walking with the boys, we had just gotten ice cream at Pop’s. The old man had offered his condolences about my mother, and I knew they were genuine. He then gave me an extra scoop of ice cream, and Jason had proceeded to complain about it the whole way home.

It had been brief; I’d looked up from my cone and seen a woman with a faded blue baseball cap, hovering just at the corner of the building ahead. I stopped walking long enough to blink my vision clear and she was gone.

“Artemis…?” Dick placed a hand on my cheek, worry overtaking his expression.

I blinked myself back into awareness, looking down at him—though not as far down as I once had to, he was only an inch or so shorter than I was that summer. “Sorry, I just…I had something in my eyes, probably dust.” I placed my free hand on his, removing it from my cheek and lacing our fingers together.

I watched from the corner of my eye as Jason followed my previous line of sight to where the woman had been standing, or rather where I _imagined_ she had been standing. There was no one there and he shrugged. “Could you maybe _not_ space out all the fucking time? Yer gonna walk into a pole or somethin’ stupid.” He turned a glare on me and Dick elbowed him. “Well she is!” he bit into his ice cream and his icy green eyes widened.

Dick snorted unattractively while trying not to spew his own mouthful of ice cream all over the sidewalk.

Jason bounced on his toes and groaned. “Fucking ooow!” he pressed his free hand to his temple.

“What did you give yourself brain freeze?” I asked incredulously. “You’ve gotta be kidding,” I smirked when he glared at me, eyes alight with fury.

“Calm down, Hoodie, it’ll pass.” Dick managed to get out between giggles at the pickpocket’s expense. He took his hand from mine and switched which hand he held his cone with, licking the drippings from the fingers of his other hand.

“You’re such a dick, _Dick_ ,” He stomped on his brother’s foot, though not _too_ hard, and in response the little bird spread his wings and ended up hitting me in the upper part of my chest, just above the scoop neck of my tank top, with his ice cream.

I shrieked at the sudden shock of cold and the rather unpleasant sensation of melting ice cream sliding and dripping down the front of my shirt and pooling in my bra before spilling down my torso. Dick drew his hand away quickly and then froze, cone still clutched in his right hand, though his ice cream was working its way down my torso and into the fabric of my shirt. My own mouth was still open from my initial scream, arms tensed and eyes wide.

It was Jason that broke the silence with a bout of uncontrollable laughter that had him doubled over and wheezing for breath.

“Artemis…I am _so_ —” he squealed when I grabbed the hem of his shorts and the elastic of the boxer briefs underneath and pulled them far enough off his skin to _shove_ my own ice cream, cone and all, down into the front of his underwear.

“Oh my GOD!” Jason seemed like he was suffocating as he fell right back onto the seat of his pants, kicking his feet and clutching the front of his hooded t-shirt. “I c-can’t…fuckin’ _breathe_!” his laugh had disintegrated into something that sounded like a cat about to cough up a hairball.

Dick whimpered, staring down at the bulge in his shorts.

“That an ice cream cone in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” I quipped, smirking triumphantly and ignoring the goose bumps on my chest and stomach, while Jason finally dropped his own ice cream onto the sidewalk.

People that happened to be walking by were probably confused by the sight, and I couldn’t care less as I watched a drop of ice cream make its way down Dick’s calf and into his sock.

The look he gave me upon slowly lifting his gaze from his crotch was simultaneously scandalized and admiring. “You-!” his voice was extremely high pitched, and I found myself stifling a snort. “How could you-?”

“I-It just keeps gettin’ better!” Jason wheezed, lying on his back and trying to hold his head up to watch the scene before him.

Dick reluctantly stuck a hand down his pants—Jason tried and failed to get out a masturbation joke between breaths—and pulled out a partially crushed cone and what little un-melted ice cream there was. He opened his fingers and it sloshed off his palm and onto the side walk. “I just…I have no words for this.”

I finally lost my composure and laughed, clutching my own stomach, which was sticky. “ _You_ have no words? You _always_ have words and if you don’t then you make them up!” I snickered again as he adjusted his gait, and honestly it couldn’t have been too comfortable to have something as cold and sticky as ice cream down the front of his shorts. Not that it was any better having it down my shirt.

He stared at me for a moment before pressing his ice cream smeared hand to my face. I shrieked again and he laughed, an evil little smirk on that pretty little face of his. “Oh, Artemis you’re such a looker,”

“You little _shit_!” I laughed in disbelief, because _that_ was clearly on purpose. Droplets of ice cream collected at the ends of my lashes and I wiped my eye on my hopeless case of a shirt.

“I’m gonna die—!” Jason was flat on his back now, and I shared a single, rather evil look with Dick before he quickly pinned the red head to the ground, and I retrieved his forgotten ice cream from beside where he’d been slowly suffocating himself on the concrete, and mushed it in his face. His squeal of surprise put mine to shame, though Dick’s was still in the lead. He sputtered, reaching up and smacking Dick across the face.

“Ow!” Dick whined through his grin.

I fell back on my hands, wiping my face on my bare shoulder. “You guys, I think we need to bathe.”

Jason shoved Dick off of him and the little bird ended up sitting despite the mess in his boxer briefs. He squeaked and his eyes widened a little. The younger smirked as his brother let out a strangled noise. “I kind of hate you a little right now, because you should never have ice cream in the places where I have ice cream right now.”

“HA!” the pickpocket pointed and laughed, and I heard the woman passing by us make a disgusted noise. He glared after her.

“Your place is closest, I know you don’t like me in there, but you said your dad was gone again, right?” Dick watched me cautiously for a reaction and I sighed in resignation.

“Fine, fine. I’m too sticky to argue right now anyway,”

“You’re telling me,” he winced as he slowly got back to his feet and I flashed a toothy grin.

“I hope you know you deserve every bit of this, you started it.” I took the hand Dick offered me and he pulled me to my feet in one swift motion.

“No way! Jay stomped on _my_ foot I was just reacting!” he shot back, grabbing Jason by the biceps and hauling him to his feet.

“Because you were being a dick, Dick.” He shoved the taller boy, who immediately shoved him back.

“You’re the one who gave yourself a brain freeze! You would’ve laughed at _me_ ,” he crossed his arms.

“Yeah, but I _am_ a jackass. Never said I was anything else.”

“See you later!” I had already walked several feet ahead before deciding to let them know I was moving. They hurried to catch up, Dick whining in discomfort the whole way.

We went back to my apartment as planned, and took turns showering, before, much to Jason’s dismay, we all threw on some of my clothing. Though Dick did take his Superman t-shirt back—and I resisted the urge to frown.

It was about a million degrees in the apartment, even with all the windows open and my piece of crap fan blowing on us where we’d camped out in the living room, and so we all slept with space between us and without blankets. Jason had decided at some point to strip down to his boxers and was lying flat on his back on the floor, spread eagle. He had an assortment of light scars on his body, concentrated around his hands, forearms, and knees. Though the most notable and recent was a huge black bruise that showed up after Jack had kicked him as hard as he could in the stomach for no particular reason, they were mostly from his days in Crime Alley and a few scraps he’d gotten in since.

Dick had stripped off his shirt, leaving the shorts he’d borrowed on as he was currently going commando. His underwear had been washed in the bathroom sink and was hanging over the shower curtain rod to dry. Though with as humid as it was that night they would likely be damp for several hours into the next day.

I’d followed their lead after a certain point, and was sitting at the kitchen counter in shorts and a bra, unable to sleep. I collected my hair in a messy ponytail, just wanting it off of my neck.

I stared at the kitchen sink with what I imagine was a vacant expression, trying to piece together a memory of my family. It had come to me during one of my many attempts to find a comfortable position some hours earlier that night, and it was at that point I’d given up on sleep and focused instead on the image of my mother standing—actually _standing_ —in front of the kitchen sink while Jade sat on the counter beside her, being utterly useless as mom washed the dishes.

Jade had been nine or ten, maybe, her hair was still short, chin length, I was fairly sure, with her bangs pinned back. Mom had long, shining ebony hair cascading down her back and a red t-shirt on. I remembered that vividly, because I’d been asking if red was her favorite color. She’d said no, her favorite color was orange.

Jade thought that was _stupid_ and _green_ was her favorite color, and that mine should be too. It was, but to spite her I’d said it was orange, like mom’s. Mom turned her head and smiled back at me, bangs hanging just a little too low in her eyes, and she looked so happy. Like there was nowhere in the world that she’d rather be than in the kitchen, washing dishes while her daughters argued over whether orange or green was a better color. Like she wished that moment would last forever.

At the time I couldn’t wrap my head around why, because really, what was so special about little girls arguing instead of helping with chores? But as I sat there, boiling in the mid-summer heat with my boys passed out in the living room, dad off doing god-knows-what and Jade and she both in the ground, I understood it perfectly. What was better than having the people you love most in the world right there with you? But she didn’t get that moment forever, instead Jade died and mom and I grew apart, because Jade and I tried to run away.

How could we have betrayed her like that? Despite dad, we should have stayed for her. For the woman who loved us most in the world.

“Not again.” I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. “For god’s sake get it together.” I heard movement from the living room and went immediately still, not making a sound in the hopes that whoever was moving would fall right back asleep.

“’Mis…?” Damn it, Dick was conscious.

“Over here, Dickie, go back to sleep.” Naturally, he didn’t listen, and I saw him sit up out of the corner of my eye before he shuffled over to me.

“S’hot…why’re you awake…?” his eyes weren’t even open all the way.

“Because it’s hot,” I smiled a little as he seemed to consider this.

“I kinda buy it.” He yawned, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. “But I know ya haven’t been sleeping the last few weeks. ‘Nd I get it, I just wish you’d talk t’me like you do about Jade.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” I still didn’t take my eyes off the kitchen sink, only seeing the disheveled boy through my peripheral vision.

“C’mon.” he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my off the stool I was sitting on. I was too tired to protest, and when he took me by the wrist and pulled my down the hall, into my room and out my window onto the fire escape, I didn’t argue. We sat down on the rusted bar grating and leaned against the worn brick of the building. There was a gentle, sporadic breeze that sent shivers down my spine. Dick pressed his bicep against mine.

“Any reason why we’re out here?” I finally looked at him, crossing my arms across my lap, and extending my legs as far as the railing in front of me would allow.

“Because the air is stagnant inside, and it’s _hot_.” He stated as though it was obvious, more alert now because of the breeze. “And because you looked like you were trying to will your mom back to life.”

“How do you know I was thinking about my mother?”

“Have you thought of anything else since she died?” he looked at me, and I flinched. “Artemis you’ve gotta talk to me. Please, you look exhausted and I know you _are_.”

“Why should I? Why should I talk when I’ve got nothing good to say? It’s all guilt and self-deprecation and shame and confusion and _anger_ , why would you wanna listen to that?” I asked desperately, looking directly at him. “Why would you wanna hear that?”

“Because I’m worried about you, I have an idea of what you’re going through, and even though I didn’t have anyone who was there for me, you’re my best friend and I wanna be there for _you_ ,” he held my gaze. “You deal with everything on your own, Jade, your dad; you’re dad’s _fists_ , your mom’s sickness, even the people who hurt _me_ and _Jay_. That’s not even your set of problems but you’re determined to deal with them, to protect us without any help from anyone.

“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, and I…I don’t want her death to be the thing that breaks you, Alice,” My eyes widened a fraction at the use of my sister’s nickname for me.

“It...It’s not, I’m not breaking, Dickie, I’m okay,” I was lying through my teeth, because I was definitely not okay. The woman with the blue baseball cap was sitting on the roof of the building across the alley, and I blinked her away.

“You can’t lie to me, Artemis, I always know when you do.” He followed my line of sight to the rooftop, and then back to my eyes. After a moment he reached up and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face towards him. His earnest blue eyes searched my face and I shivered again when another breeze blew by. “Look at me,” the please was unspoken.

He made a surprised noise when I captured his lips with my own, immediately releasing my chin. I cupped his cheeks and ran my fingers across his cheek bones, and he brought his hands up to rest on either side of my neck, thumbs on the corners of my jaw. It was hard and hot and damp.

His lashes fluttered against my cheek and when I broke the kiss, I dropped my head a little and he laid a kiss into my hairline before pulling me forward just a little more. My forehead fit into the crook of his neck while his cheek pressed against my hair. “What, um,” he cleared his throat and I felt heat creeping up his neck “What was that for?”

“I just used you for physical contact and a rush of positive feelings,” I sniffed and wrapped my arms around his waist. I laughed and it was hoarse. “I think that makes me a bad person,”

He snorted and slowly lied back, shifting the position of his shoulders a few times to get comfortable on the grate. “Not really, I’m not exactly, ah, complaining.” He took a deep breath and I moved onto my side, cheek on his collar bone and hand flat on his chest.

“I know,” I sighed, curling in on myself.

“Doesn’t mean I’m changing the subject, though.” He said softly, playing with the end of my ponytail. “What’s going on in your head? Gotta be pretty bad if you’re desperate enough to kiss me,” His tone was light, and even though I knew he didn’t read into the kiss I felt a metaphorical knife twist in my gut.

There was sweat dripping into my eyes and I blinked it away. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Artemis,”

I took a deep, shaky breath. “I just… I…” had absolutely no idea how to verbalize anything. “Earlier, in the kitchen, I was remembering this time, before she was sick, where she and I and Jade…we were just happy. And I wish…I wish I had more memories like that. But I _don’t_ ,”

The little bird was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I was endlessly grateful for that. “But I feel like I _should_ ,” my voice cracked on the last word.

“If you focus on what didn’t happen, what you didn’t do, it just makes it worse. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone over it in my head—thousands of times, probably more.” His voice was low. “I should’ve made them listen, when I told them I saw Zucco leaving the tent. Should’ve paid better attention to the ropes, double checked them before they jumped. There’s a million different ways it could have gone down. There were a million things I didn’t do.”

“It’s not the same, Dickie, you have so many good memories, and I hardly have any,”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets.” His tone was defensive, and I winced. He blew out a sigh. “If you lock yourself up, and…and if you shut me out, you’re gonna lose yourself in those regrets, Artemis. And you _will_ break.”

“Why do you put up with me?” I pushed myself up, my weight resting on my arm. I looked down at him, searching his face for an answer to a question I’d been asking for years. “I’m…I’m difficult and frustrating and a _bitch_. Why do you even bother?”

He furrowed his brow, as if the answer should be obvious. “ _Apa trece, pietrele ramân_.” I shook my head, not understanding. “It’s Romanian: ‘Water flows, but the stones remain’. It means that while some people come and go, some are there forever. Those are the ones you should care about.”

“You speak Romanian?” I blinked and he laughed a little.

“It’s my first language. My family is Romanian. Though there’s also about a hundred other races mixed in. But we spoke Romanian when we were alone, when we were training, when we were flying. I didn’t speak a lot of English until after they died.”

“I…you never told me that, you don’t even have an accent,”

“I know. I make a point of not having one.” He turned away from me. “It doesn’t matter, though.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, placing a hand on my cheek.

“Then what does matter?” I covered his hand with my own, squeezing his slender fingers.

“That you love me, that you’d do anything for me. And that no matter what I know I can go to you for anything.” There was sweat beading on his forehead again, and he furrowed his brow, causing a drop to travel to the tip of his nose, where it fell. He looked almost hurt. “And because I love you. So why wouldn’t I want to be around you?”

“For the aforementioned reasons,” I answered lamely. He frowned and I squeezed his hand. “I love you too, baby bird, you know I do. But…I’m not good at sharing or talking or…or anything resembling healthy conversation. It’s not that I don’t wanna talk to you,”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not putting much stock in that last part.

“Okay. So that’s part of it, I’m closed off, I know.” I bit my lip, rolling it between my teeth. “I just…I don’t know how. That’s not a reflection on you, though—if anything I’m better than I used to be.”

“You could tell me about all the guilt, shame and self-deprecation?” he offered, running his thumb over my cheek bone.

“I…” It was like opening the flood gates. Everything poured out in a less than coherent stream of disconnected words and sentences, sometimes loud and angry and other times quiet and broken and accompanied by uncontrollable tears. All the guilt about having tried to run out on my parents with Jade, losing her as a result of it, somehow thinking it was my fault because I should have tried to stop her. How I should have gotten closer with my mother after that, instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, visiting less and calling almost never.

I told him about how stupid I was, because all the mistakes I made were so god damned _stupid_ and could have been avoided and how I didn’t even deserve the family that I had. If I hadn’t been so stupid and ruined the fragile relationship I’d had with her maybe she’d still be _alive_. As though I could have somehow willed her into wellness, instead of watching from a distance as she withered away.

I told him how I regretted not ever introducing him to her. Because she would have loved him, his infuriating, endearing sense of humor and his intelligence and his contagious smile, and even that annoying little gremlin laugh of his. She would have bonded with him over his love of black and white movies, because she herself was a closet Cary Grant fan—he was her first cinematic love when she came to America some thirty years earlier at age eighteen, watching all the films she could get her hands on to try and get a better handle on the language. She would have been fascinated by his history, by his travel, and they could have traded stories that probably even I’d never heard.

It was like lifting a two-ton weight off of my shoulders, and for the first time in almost a month I felt like I could breathe. Like I was going to be fine, and there was a light at the end of my metaphorical tunnel.


	23. Please

When Jason woke us up the next morning, cursing and yelling about the heat and how he was going to go stick his head under the faucet in my bathtub just to _cool_ _off_ because _god damn_ , we had relocated to the floor in the living room, close enough to touch but being sure not to because of body heat.

I had actually gotten some decent sleep, and despite the suffocating humidity I felt…good. Good enough to burst into stifled giggles when Jason tripped on his way to the bathroom, catching himself none-to-gracefully, and then stared at us, just _daring_ us to laugh.

“Fuck off, Blondie.” He spat, stomping the rest of the way out of the room.

“Always cheerful in the morning, isn’t he?” I sighed, flopping back onto the floor.

“Can’t say I’m feeling particularly chipper, either. Is it even physically possible to be _alive_ in this heat?” he mumbled into the floor.

“No, we’re actually dead and this is just some kind of horrible purgatory.” I deadpanned and he gave a dramatic, drawn out sigh.

Later that day, after we’d all gotten dressed and left my apartment, we decided to go swimming at the High School—however it seemed about a thousand other people had the same idea and we weren’t able to get in. So instead we went to the playground on 31st, where Dick and I plopped down in a small patch of shade next to one of the surrounding buildings, and Jason was lazily swaying back and forth on the swing set, trying to generate a breeze in the thick, damp air.

“You know, it’s August first. Jay’s birthday is in two weeks,” he said thoughtfully, rolling onto his back to stare up at the cloudless sky. “I was thinking about getting him a real present this year. Since usually we just take him for cheap food. I mean, he’s gonna be eleven, you know?”

“What did you have in mind?” I turned my head to the side, cheek resting against the surprisingly dry grass—which was unfortunately not the least bit cooler than the air. “We can’t get him anything sharp because of Jack, and that’s what he _really_ wants.”

“Not sure yet. Figure I’ll know the right gift when I see it. If you’ll come with me, though, It’ll be easier.” He closed his eyes. “I’m gonna ask Maggie for some cash.” He finished, as though to assure me I didn’t have to scrounge up anything for contribution.

“I’ll definitely go. Little brat deserves something nice.” I cracked a smile, pulling at the hem of my tank top and peeling it off of my sweat-damp skin and wiggling on the ground to move it up my torso and leave my midsection exposed to the open air. I’d kicked off my socks and sneakers long ago.

“Definitely.” Dick agreed.

Jason chose that moment of silence to walk over to us, movements sluggish and utterly unenthusiastic. “I think dying would actually better than this fuckin’ weather.” He sat down between us, crossing his legs and looking down at Dick.

“I had a similar thought earlier.” The little bird grinned up at his brother. “Like I half wish Mr. Freeze would show up.” The red head scoffed in response, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think _he_ could deal with this either, he’d melt like that fucking ice cream Artemis shoved down your pants.” There was a cocky, terribly amused grin when Dick punched him half-heartedly in the arm, before letting his arm flop lifelessly back to the ground. “You hit like a bitch.”

“It’s so hot I don’t even care.” He groaned.

I laughed, and when I looked to the rooftop, I saw the woman with the blue baseball cap, deciding she had to be a hallucination to be out in this weather. She was gone a moment later, which was faster than usual, and I couldn’t decide if that was better or not, since it was the second time I’d seen her in twenty-four hours.

She had been something I’d kept to myself when I’d poured my heart out to Dick the night before. I told myself it was because I didn’t want him to worry, which wasn’t untrue. However, a big part of the reason was that I just couldn’t bring myself to be completely open with him. I had to hold onto that one thing. Protect myself.

It was frustrating, how stupid that was. He was the last person in the world who would hurt me, and he said it himself, he wanted to get inside my head. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t done the same thing—not telling me his first language wasn’t English, but in fact _Romanian_ of all things. That was a significant piece of information that he’d never shared, however my justification had a major hole—being that I wouldn’t have known that little fact if he hadn’t _told_ me.

So I resigned myself to the fact that there was always going to be a part of me that I’d never share with him, and if not with him, then probably not with anyone else, either.

August third was a Thursday, and it was also the day that Dick and I decided to walk along Amusement Mile, armed with thirty dollars from Maggie, well-worn sneakers, and, naturally, Jade’s switchblade—in search of a birthday present for Jason.

I kept my hands in the pockets of my denim shorts, dragging my feet as I walked next to the energetic bird. He was ecstatic, going on and on about how this present had to be amazing, had to knock Jason’s socks off and actually make the kid grin with something other than his usual bout of pure evil. “I don’t even know what it could be, you know? It’s just gotta be asterous.”

“So you’ve said, Dickie-bird. So you’ve said.” I rolled my eyes under the brim of Jade’s old baseball cap.

I listened as he continued to throw out ideas for presents, never actually settling on one while we walked. I watched the ground, making a point of avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk for no particular reason, and the various pieces of blackened gum so they wouldn’t stick to my shoes. That was a pet peeve of mine, and anytime I found anything on the bottoms of my shoes I’d sit there for as long as necessary with a knife and scrape it all out.

It was a good ten or fifteen minutes before we finally stopped to look at something and that something happened to be a small outdoor stand that was selling leather bracelets. “You think he’d like this?” Dick picked up one that caught his eye. It was brown, with about two inches of flat leather that could be engraved, while the rest of it was braided with a snap to hold it on the wearer’s wrist. “I mean, I know it’s man jewelry, but, it’s leather. He has a thing about leather.”

I watched as he traced the braided material with his fingertips before he snapped it around his own wrist. There was some give to it, and it wasn’t especially tight around his wrist. It was made for a person much bigger then he or Jason. “Seems like it’d fall right off of him, shouldn’t you get a smaller one?” I twisted it off over his hand to make my point and he frowned, turning back to look at the others hanging off the sides of the stand. “Dickie, what about this one?” I pulled down one that was practically the same, though a little wider, but it tied in the back instead of snapping, making it adjustable.

“Excuse me,” he turned to the owner of the stand, who, after finishing a sale, gave him a bright smile. “How much is this?” he pointed to the one I’d found.

“Fifteen bucks, and twenty-five if you wanna get it engraved,” he crossed his arms and I wrinkled my nose.

“That’s kinda pricey, Dick.”

He blew out a breath and considered it for a moment. “Sounds good to me,” he grinned. “Can you engrave it right now?”

“Yup, what’cha want it to say, kid?” he held out a hand and made a ‘gimme’ motion. I handed over the bracelet and watched as he placed it in a small machine, and his fingers hovered over the keyboard of an old laptop.

“Jay. Big j, little a, little y.” he watched as the man typed it in as instructed, and pressed a button to start the machine. In a moment of indecision and regret, Dick whirled around to face me. “Do you think we should’ve looked around more? Maybe this was a bad idea. I want him to actually like his present…” he bit his lip.

“Dick—”

“You don’t think it’s lame? Getting him a bracelet? It was lame getting you a necklace, too, not that I think the necklace is lame!” he threw up his hands in defense. “I know you like it, and I’m glad, but you and Jay are totally different people.”

 I had to disagree with him on that point, because honestly Jason and I were undoubtedly similar.

“So he might not like this, even though he likes leather, because like I said, he has a thing about leather.”

“Dick,” I pressed my hands against his raised ones, and he stopped. “He’s gonna love it. He tries to hide it but he’s a sentimental little brat. So take a breath.” I laced our fingers and squeezed his hands and he did as he was told, taking a deep breath.

“You think so?” he looked up at me, and a smile tugged at my lips.

“Yeah, I do.” It wasn’t as though Jason would _dare_ tell him if he didn’t like his present, anyway. It’d break the little bird’s heart and Jason was one of the last people in the world that would want that.

“Okay. Okay good,” he twisted around, letting go of my hands in the process to watch as the machine finished its work, and before the man could even get the words out, Dick had slapped twenty-five dollars down on the small aluminum counter.

“Here you go, kid.” He handed him the bracelet and nodded his head in thanks before turning to another customer.

I pulled him away from the stand and under the awning of a nearby building for some shade. It wasn’t as hot as the last few days, but the humidity certainly hadn’t broken yet. “What now?” I asked, taking off Jade’s hat to wipe the sweat off of my forehead and push my bangs back.

“Well, shouldn’t we find a box for it or something? It’d be kind of underwhelming to just give it to him. Plus, there’s no suspense if he doesn’t have to open anything,” he traced the engraving with his recently trimmed thumb nail, and bit his lip, trying to think of a solution to our earth shattering problem.

“You didn’t put mine in a box, and it was plenty suspenseful.” I reminded him, playing with the thin chain around my neck. It was amazing how much thought he put into something that simple. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been the same way when he’d gotten my necklace—which I’d had yet to remove for anything other than showering and swimming.

“Yeah but this is _Hoodie_ we’re talking about, I feel like I should put it in a box and then wrap it with duct tape,” he shot me a mischievous grin and I laughed.

“He’d just cut it open with this,” I patted the pocket of my shorts where Jade’s switchblade was safely stashed away. “Not that I’d give it to him, but you know how he is,”

Dick rolled his eyes fondly. “He’s a sneak, for sure, if I ever go on a stealth mission, I’m totally taking him with me. The bad guys wouldn’t know what hit ‘em,”

I laughed, picking at a tear on the brim of Jade’s baseball cap. “Besides, I think he’ll be whelmed by it anyway.”

The little bird grinned at hearing me use one of his words—not that it was the first or last time—and nodded. “Fine, then we’ll just give it to him as is, gotta figure out where to hide it though.”

“I could hold on to it, keep it at my place. He’d never look there and it’d never be found,” I drew a flat line in the air with my free hand.

“Promise you won’t lose it?” he gave me a serious look but I failed to take him seriously, and grinned.

“I swear, or may the fury of Batman himself rain down upon me,” I held up my left hand and rested Jade’s hat over my heart, before pulling it back on my head.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He pointed at me meaningfully and handed me the leather bracelet, which I hid in the buttoned pocket in the back of my shorts.

I ruffled his hair and then immediately pulled away. “Eww, you’re all sweaty,” I wiped my palm on the sleeve of his t-shirt and he gave me a smug smile.

“Least I don’t smell,” he jogged a few paces ahead and I gave a scandalized scoff.

“I do not _smell_!” I called after him, running to catch up and regretting it because good _god_ it was hot out.

He waved a hand in front of his nose, a devilish grin on his face and I punched him in the shoulder. “Owww!” he whined, giving me a pout complete with protruding lower lip.

“Wanna split a soda?” I waved the five dollar bill I’d been carrying all day for just that reason.

“…What kind?” he looked at me suspiciously and I rolled my eyes.

“Orange Zesti.”

His face lit up at that. “Sure!” he chirped, practically bouncing as we walked to a street vendor and ordered our drink along with a couple of straws. It was an average sized, bottled drink but it still cost nearly all of my five dollars, which wasn’t terribly surprising because street vendors were always overpriced. But there was something far more satisfying about buying from them than from a restaurant or someplace cheaper.

Besides, what else was I going to spend my money on at age fifteen? It wasn’t as though I was working towards any major goals, and I was perfectly content to be where I was, anyway.

The entire trip home he had his hand in mine, or on my shoulder, just always touching, while we skipped or hopped on one foot or even galloped a few feet before deciding that that was probably too much and then laughing about it.

“My turn!” he snatched our soda away and took a long sip, swinging our arms between us. “Thanks again for buying it,” he grinned at me and I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically.

“Yeah, I know. I’m _wonderful_. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

He leaned over to peck me on the cheek, but my head was turned slightly towards him, so he ended up kissing the corner of my mouth, not that I really minded.

He tasted like Orange Zesti.

“You are pretty asterous, and just pretty.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You’re not totally unfortunate looking either,” I squeezed his hand and leaned over to sip on our Zesti while he scoffed.

“Excuse me, _Artemis_ , but I am blindingly handsome. Don’t be jealous,” he turned his nose up and I snorted, elbowing him in the side.

“Why would I be jealous? I don’t wanna look like a dick.”

He tried and failed to hold back his smile before shoving me. “Jerk.”

“Love you too, baby bird.” I kissed his cheek, close enough to his eye that it fluttered closed and I felt his eyelashes brush my nose.

“I know, I know,” he waved our soda around as though exasperated, because who _wouldn’t_ love him?

“Cocky little circus whelp.” I sipped our drink again, taking it from him this time because I was half worried he’d spill it all over the side walk, where it would stay wet and sticky for the next seventy-two hours in the humidity.

The moment we stepped in the front door of the Blake house, we knew something was wrong. I could feel it, and I knew he could too, because I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, feel the tremor that went through his body.

“John…? Maggie…?” he called, clearly hesitant. There wasn’t a single sound made in response, and the silence echoed in the normally rambunctious house. I felt like I could hear our heartbeats as they slowly increased in speed, our nerves getting the best of us. I needed to take a breath to calm myself.

Nothing seemed out of place, so what could possibly be wrong?

When I finally took that breath, there was this familiar stale scent I couldn’t place, and I knew it wasn’t right. My heart raced a little faster and I found myself reminded of my father, not this house that always smelled like food and the sweaty socks that were always strewn about no matter how hard Maggie tried to keep them off the floor.

I squeezed his trembling hand and set our Zesti on the table just inside the front door. We took a few steps forward, turning to the right to look into the living room. Dick’s free hand slapped the light switch.

I suddenly realized what that smell was.

The couch where Dick and Jason and I had watched hours upon hours of weapons specials and old movies was soaked with it and Sam and Seth’s swollen, cut up faces and heads and stomachs were leaking it all over the floor.

That smell was familiar, all right, because it was blood. It was the same smell that dad’s things had when he came back from a trip, the one I pretended not to noticed and never dared or wanted to ask about. The same smell that had forced me to cover my nose as I watched the paramedics move Jade’s limp body into a black body bag. The smell that didn’t really disappear from that alley until it rained two weeks later.

“We need to call the cops.” I jerked on Dick’s hand and he tore his horrified expression away from the lifeless forms of two of his foster brothers. We ran into the kitchen, and I wished I had paid better attention, because I tripped over something solid, something that wasn’t supposed to be there and that cracked under my foot. And even though I had caught myself on my hands, they slid out from under me and my chin slammed into the tile, cracking my teeth and making my bite my tongue, and suddenly I could taste blood as well as I could smell it and the front of my shirt was hot and sticky with something that wasn’t sweat, and my hands were covered in it, and I scrambled away and backed up into Dick, who had fallen down with me.

His breathing was erratic and I felt like I was going to be sick as the overpowering metallic smell flooded more of my senses. “Maggie?” his voice broke and I heard him involuntarily gag, but I didn’t look away from John’s still face, still calm and strong and despite the unnatural depression on his forehead, still strong. I was swallowed for a moment by disbelief that someone who I’d always believed to be so powerful and so immovable and so good was suddenly…

He’d been so kind to me, always so, _so_ good to me. He was better than my own father in all the ways that mattered and made me feel like I was capable of something real and…and he was just…

I snapped back to the present when Dick inhaled sharply. “Jason!”

My heart was beating so rapidly I felt like my chest my break open, because we’d left Jason at home that day.

We’d left him.

“Jay!” he slid when he was trying to get to his feet, his knee cracking against the tile and I didn’t turn around fast enough to grab the back of his shirt like I’d intended. “JASON!” he was gone from the kitchen and there was nothing caught in my grasp but air.

“Dick!” but I didn’t go after him. We needed help. I had no idea what was going on but we needed _help_ and suddenly I wanted my sister to be there to protect me, so I could curl up in a corner while she chased away the monster that had done this to these people that I’d come to feel at home with. But she wasn’t coming, and for a vain moment I hoped the woman in the blue baseball cap would burst through the door, like my own personal super hero and make it okay but she wasn’t real and no one was coming.

My mind was racing and I realized that I was wasting time wishing and hoping for things that would never happen. I was scared and I was wasting time being afraid while Dick was trying to find Jason.

I got to my feet, using the counter to pull myself up and leaving a trail of red hand prints all over it. I grabbed the phone, and dialed 911 so quickly it was like I had done it one hundred times over.

When the woman on the other line asked my emergency, I nearly vomited, because I’d had to inhale that stale air again. “Four murders,” I spoke so fast I was amazed that she repeated the address back to me correctly. But when she asked me to stay on the line I slammed the phone down onto the counter, not hanging it up and sprinted out of the kitchen.

I was barely keeping it together; barely resisting the instinct to flee and hide like the pathetic little girl my father had always accused me of being. I had to find the boys, and I prayed to whatever nonspecific deity was listening that Jason was okay, that I wouldn’t slip and fall into a puddle of his blood.

I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it.

“Dick! Jason!” My voice was uneven and panicked and my hands started to shake when they didn’t answer. “DICK! JASON!”

I glanced in every room, strained my ears for any sound that might tell me where they were but all I could hear was the blood pumping through my body, and finally after what felt like longer than forever I found them in the garage.

My hand was still on the door, foot not even past the threshold and his name not even past my lips when for a very long moment, everything stopped. I saw a glint of light catch metal, and in that moment, there was no other sound in the world except for the crack of Dick’s skull as a crow bar was smashed into his forehead.

And then he hit the ground. The dust from the floor spread around him, reflecting light almost like glitter. All the air left my lungs in a rush as his name finally got out, barely a whisper, and he didn’t move.

And a part of me knew that he was gone. And that part of me died with him. I could only see the back of his head, and his hair was dark and silky and black like always, and it was a mess. God his hair was such a mess.

All at once the sound returned to my ears and then there was this nasally laugh. This giddy, overjoyed laugh and every muscle in my body trembled and I was consumed by blinding rage and I looked up and I saw Jack’s face, except that it was different.

Covered in white, the skin around his eyes blackened with red smeared across his mouth like a child had done it. Some of whatever that bright, cheerful red color was had gotten on his crooked, yellow teeth, and the purple jacket he was wearing with a white carnation tucked into the pocket was covered in blood, but I knew none of it was his.

Not a single solitary drop.

I lunged at him, and I heard a sharp, feral scream that I would later realize had come from me. He didn’t even have the decency to look surprised, he just stared at me, mouth stretched wide and laughing at a joke that no one else was allowed to be a part of because no one else thought it was funny the way he did.

I screamed at him, not even aware of what I was saying as I threw my fist wanting nothing more than to break his teeth, his jaw, his eye sockets, his long, narrow nose, his god damned smile—something, any part of him. I wanted him to hurt, to bleed the way John and Maggie and Sam and Seth had hurt and bled.

I wanted him to die the way Dick had died.

There was a sharp pain as the crow bar in his hands came down in a rush and shattered the bones in my wrist, but after the initial blow I could barely feel it.

I so desperately wished that he was _dead_.

I stomped on his foot and wrapped my fingers around the curve of the crow bar, holding tightly so as not to lose my hold.  I wrenched it from his hands with my uninjured hand and stumbled back.

Jack laughed again and I slammed it against his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He was tired, and he was laughing so hard he was losing his balance and tears burned my eyes and my entire body shook with rage.

I raised it again as high as I could, because once he was dead everything would be okay. It’d be like nothing ever happened. To deliver the final blow and forever erase that disgusting smile from his painted face was all I wanted because it’d make everything better. It’d make Dick better somehow, I _knew_ it would. He just had to die.

But a gurgled whimper snapped me out of my desperate fantasies and I lowered the dripping piece of metal.

Killing Jack wouldn’t fix anything, but I had to fight to keep from doing it anyway, because part of me still believed it was worth a try. I’d never felt more like my father then I did in that moment.

“I called the cops, and they’ll be here any minute. _Get. Out_.”

I didn’t pay any attention to him after that, and without even realizing I’d moved I collapsed onto my knees at Jason’s side while the crow bar clanged on the concrete beside me. I raised my hands to touch him but couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Oh god, Jay,” what was I supposed to _do_?

He was near unrecognizable, twisted and broken and painted up like a tragedy. “Dick…” he coughed up blood and a tooth fell from his mouth, clattering lightly on the ground.

I nodded in understanding and scrambled over to Dick’s side, barely registering that Jack was gone and Dick’s eyes were open.

“Baby bird—” a sob escaped my throat and I shook him, and his body moved with my hand like a rag doll. There was no light in his eyes, and not for the first time he reminded me of Jade, but not because of the usual reasons.

Not because he was vibrant and full of life and movement. But because he was still, and vulnerable and helpless and because he was bleeding from his head and his eyes were blank and expressionless and said nothing to me. “Please,”

I heard the shrieking of sirens.

“Baby bird, no-o, you promised—”

There were flashing lights.

“You pro-omised me—”

Voices and doors and running.

“Please, please please please please—”

A cry of “We found her!”

“Dickie, noooo, no no no no—”

Questions and hands pulling me away and—

“Dick!”

They pulled me away from him and I fought and they asked “Are you okay?” But—

“DICK!”


	24. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the best time writing this story. It took me a long time, but Paradise has been my baby for years--actual years. And I hope you liked it!
> 
> Let me know what you think
> 
> Love,
> 
> KatieNuss

The room was white and crisp and reeked of antiseptic. There was a soft, steady beeping coming from one of the machines hooked up to Jason’s motionless body. He was bound and rebound with casts and bandages like a mummy.

There was a big panoramic window on the other side of his bed. It was bright and sunny out, and behind the Gotham City skyline I could see clear blue skies. There were people walking the streets, some laughing, some rushing to work.

It was a beautiful August day.

The chair I was in was comfortable; I’d been sitting at his bedside for hours, staring at the few red curls that were still visible on his head.

My father had finally left around noon.

The police had made me call him the night before last when they’d taken me to the hospital to have my wrist set and wrapped. I’d refused at first, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to see anyone or for anyone to see me. But they’d made me do it, and when he answered his cell phone, the one I was only to call for emergencies, I’d burst into tears and begged him to come home.

He was silent for so long I’d almost thought he’d hung up, but he finally asked “What happened, baby girl?” and the officer behind me had to pry the phone from my fingers to explain.

I stifled my hysterical sobbing as best I could, but I could hear him yelling at the officer, asking what had been done to me.

My own wrist was in a white cast, resting in my lap and there was a dull throbbing coming from it.

There was no one else there, just Jason and I.

I flinched when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder but I didn’t look away from the little pickpocket. “Artemis, are you with us?” the voice was a woman’s, probably a doctor, judging by the white coat I could see in my peripheral vision.

“Yes.” My voice was hoarse.

There was a scraping noise as she pulled a chair up, next to me but not in my line of vision. “How do you feel, does your wrist hurt?”

“No.”

“You must be tired, you haven’t slept in at least a day.” Her tone was meant to be soothing, but I felt like she was patronizing me.

“I’m not tired.” I spat through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” she answered.

“Is he…?”

“He went through twelve hours of surgery, but he’s strong, and he’s doing as well as is possible.”

“And the others?”

“Artemis, I’m sorry, but—”

I cut her off with a noise that was half shriek and half sob. It hit me, punched me straight in the gut and I couldn’t see anymore, but I could feel a wetness in my eyes and on my cheeks. “We, he, John and Maggie can’t afford this kind of care, who’s paying for this?” It didn’t even sound like me.

“Well, actually, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she stood and I didn’t look away from the still figure on the bed in front of me. “His name is Bruce Wayne.”

It was like a slap to the face, sudden, and unexpected. I stood and turned around so fast my vision went black and I stumbled into heavy hands.

“Hello, Artemis,” I had heard that voice on TV.

“What are you doing here, you don’t even _know_ him! You didn’t know any of them!” Irrational fury. I shoved him as hard as I could and a sharp pain pierced through my broken wrist.

His slate blue eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

“No! No I’m not fucking okay!” Imaginary hands were closing around my throat and there was a nasally laugh ringing in my ears. “I’m not okay and it’s none of your god damned business whether or not I’m okay! You have the whole fucking world in the palm of your hands and I—!”

My world had just ended.

I screamed for every reason and my throat felt raw, like chipped and broken finger nails had been scraping at it.

My little bird was _gone_ and I wanted so badly to just die. I was suffocating and that laugh was in my ears and the smell of blood was in my nose and I was drowning in it and I just wanted it all to stop and go away and leave me alone. Everything was wrong.

It was wrong wrong wrong. I wanted to die.

I needed to just stop being and I needed that son of a bitch to stop laughing at me and for the hands around my throat and my heart to go away and for my stomach to stop ripping its self open.

I just wanted it all to _stop_.

But it couldn’t stop, I couldn’t die because Dick would never forgive me if I left Jason alone.

I needed to protect Jason.

“What do you _want_!” I sobbed.

“I want to help him get better.”

“And then what?! He has nowhere to go!”

“And then I want to take care of him. I won’t let him go back into the system.” Bruce’s voice was sure and solid and immovable.

“I won’t let you take him away from me, I need to be there for him I need to prot- _tect_ him,” I backed up until I felt Jason’s bed against the back of my legs and I glared up at the billionaire in front of me. “He’s my little brother. I _won’t_ let him go.”

“I won’t take him from you. I promise.” He held my gaze, never once looking away or so much as blinking and something made me _believe_ him. “And I’ll take care of John and Maggie and Sam and Seth and Richard—”

“His name is Dick.”

Bruce paused. “And Dick. We’ll give them the best.”

I turned away from him and stood over Jason, watching as his eyes moved rapidly beneath his swollen and purple lids, and for all the blinding, paralyzing pain and anger and guilt, I just wanted him to be okay. “The best.”

“Yes.”

Because I loved him. He was my little brother.

He was all I had left. He deserved the paradise that Dick would never grow up to see.

And I was going to make sure he had it.

“…Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the best time writing this story. It took me a long time, but Paradise has been my baby for years--actual years. And I hope you liked it!
> 
> Let me know what you think
> 
> Love,
> 
> KatieNuss

**Author's Note:**

> More to come :)


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